


How To: Hitch a Breeder

by sakesushimaki



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Drama, M/M, Mental Illness, Minor Character Death, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-03
Updated: 2011-07-03
Packaged: 2017-10-20 23:59:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 30,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/218559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sakesushimaki/pseuds/sakesushimaki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What do you do when he's not playing for your team?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Muchas gracias to LJ's backwards_rain for the beta. Feedback is most appreciated!

**Step 1: Leave a Great First Impression** / _Surprise! Not._

 

“Theodore, I hope that you’re kidding, for _your_ sake.” Brian could not believe he was having this conversation. “First I have to run after you for some fucking file and now you’re asking me to _wait_?” The world must have gone crazy, Brian was sure of that. “I don’t care if your fucking surprise party was for the sultan of Brunei! Get your ass down here, now!”

It was Friday night and all Brian wanted to do was go home, take a two hundred and ninety six-degree hot shower, fall into bed for at least twelve hours and get up — preferably at noon — and work through the weekend. So that’s what it had come to: owning a successful business, making shitloads of money, and having practically no time to enjoy any of it.

The proverbial Fruits of Success weren’t supposed to taste so bitter.

Brian exhaled his last drag of smoke and crushed the cigarette beneath his Gucci loafer. He’d ordered the exquisite pair via phone from his regular importer, the one he hadn’t seen in over a year — courtesy of said non-fruits of success, of course.

He really had to stop smoking one of these days. Or well, one of the other days. Leaning forward slightly from under the overhang of the apartment building, two drops of rain hit his forehead provocatively. Fucking rain.

“Fucking rain,” someone else muttered, followed by a dangerous putting-down-umbrella maneuver which caused Brian to have to duck away under the swig.

“Would you watch it?”

The man whipped around. “Oh! I’m sorry! I didn’t see you there.” The guy flashed a quite polite smile and fished his keys out of his strange-looking bag. “Can I let you in?”

“I’m just waiting for someone,” Brian explained, feeling the sudden need to straighten his shoulders.

“Well, don’t you want to wait in the entry hall or something?”

“Pass.” In a weird notion of wanting to say something else, Brian quickly added, “Besides, it doesn’t look as though we’d get in there any time soon.” He motioned at the man’s hands that were busy trying out several keys.

“Ha, yeah. I probably should make sure I get my own door open before inviting people in. Fuck. It’s just that I dropped my damn key chain somewhere on the way and got them all mixed up. I’m parked approximately four miles away. Normally, there’s always a couple of free spots right here in front of the entrance,” the man babbled.

Brian felt like he should not be interested in these random bits of information. “Must be all the surprise party guests,” he offered nevertheless, rolling his eyes at the thought of what must be the lamest party in history if Ted played some considerable role.

“Ha! Finally!” With a few loud clicks, the key turned in the lock and the door opened. “Surprise party, you say? Who— Oh, shit!” The guy sighed dramatically and leaned against the door frame.

Just then the sound of Ted’s generic shoe brand echoed through the hallway. “Brian, I’m sorry, I couldn’t find my briefcase right away, what with all the mess we— Justin!”

 _Justin_ gave an unenthusiastic wave.

Holding a folder out to Brian, Ted surveyed the situation. “You’re not asking what I’m doing here. That is not good,” he told Justin.

“You can say that again. God, I hate you guys.”

“Justin, I’m sorry, it was Daphne’s idea! And we were just… well, were we supposed to say no? She insisted!”

“Ted, I swear I’m this close to turning around and walking the five miles back to my car.”

 _Four_ miles, Brian corrected silently, staring a hole into the side of Justin’s head where a couple of wet blond strands were stuck to his temple.

“Oh, right,” Ted remembered and turned to Brian. “The final figures are on the last page and I’ll have those diagrams ready by tomorrow night and email them to you, okay?”

“Uh, yeah. I’m gonna need them by seven.” Brian didn’t need the diagrams at all.

“Alright then. Bye,” Ted said and set to veering a very reluctant Justin further into the building.

Justin gave Brian a miserable smile before following Ted’s lead inside.

“Could you try and act surprised?” Brian heard Ted plead as he stared after them until the heavy door clicked shut.

That guy was Ted’s friend? Huh. Brian might have to give his accountant’s social competency more credit.

Clearing his throat and stepping onto the cigarette stubble once more for unclear reasons, Brian headed into the direction of his parking spot.

At a red light a couple of minutes later, Brian watched the windshield wipers do their work.

If _Justin_ had managed to look surprised?

 

+

 

They were out of daisies. How could they be out of daisies?

“Right,” Justin said, closing his eyes and rubbing his forehead. “So, do you have anything that looks similar to daisies?”

“Well, um, we do have plastic ones?” Not so great.

He ended up not buying any flowers at all and seriously considered taking his weekly business elsewhere from now on.

Luckily, she didn’t mind. Or so it seemed at first.

“Why is it always cloudy? It always is.”

“Hello to you, too.”

She pulled and pushed a lever and turned her wheelchair around. “It’s always cloudy.”

“Actually, it has been quite nice and sunny for a couple of days last week. Remember, I wanted to take you outside?” She scoffed and Justin knew what would be to come next.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? And I bet they’d like that, too.” Justin didn’t respond. “Isn’t it Wednesday today? Why didn’t you bring me my flowers? Who did you— Did they tell you to—”

“They were out of daisies today.”

She scoffed again. She always did. “But of course they were!” Her eyes narrowed that one fraction. They always narrowed when she was like this. It was her give-away, others’ forewarning or confirmation.

The air felt stale and Justin went to crack a window open. “So, what did you do today?”

“Like you care.”

“Of course I care,” Justin confirmed, calm and prepared.

There was a noise just outside the window and she turned around quickly, checking. Always checking. Finally, she returned her gaze to him, but only studied him through thin slits.

Justin had gotten used to this. A fact that didn’t make it much easier, though.

“I have a birthday present for you. It’s in that cupboard over there, under the stack of magazines, between the pillow cases.”

Justin smiled a little. “Thanks, mom.”

 

+

 

“So, as I said: you gotta hire an additional someone for the art department or one or two freelancers,” Jacob concluded. “And by what you’re currently paying overtime for the residents, you might as well hire another designer.”

Brian sighed. “We can’t go through a round of hiring right now. There’s too much work and too little time to get it done as it is. How about another couple of interns? You said the last two from PIFA were doing good work.”

“Brian, this is not about the busy work. We need qualified people to design the campaigns. Look, just give me permission to take care of this. I’ll hire one freelancer and we’ll see how it goes. Ted already mentioned that he knows someone.”

Brian taps his pen against a stack of files. “Since when does Ted _know someone_?” Jacob huffed a smile. “Fuck. Yeah, alright, take care of it.”

After Jacob left, Brian snatched up the receiver of the phone with one finger before pressing a key.

His call was answered with a _“You better not be calling to tell me you can’t make it tonight.”_

Brian rolled his eyes. “You know, Mikey, some of us actually have work to do.”

“Shut up, I can’t believe you! You ditched on us three times in a row already.”

“Well, it’s not like I’m enjoying this, so suck it up.”

At the end of the line, Michael sighed. “Look, I understand. I do, okay? But it’s Friday. Can’t the workaholic shit wait till tomorrow at least?”

“Tomorrow there’ll be even more _workaholic shit_ to take care of. Plus, I’m having dinner with a client, as well.”

“Right. So, we have Jenny for Saturday and Sunday, but I could drop by your place when I go out for a walk with her? Say, Sunday afternoon?”

“Yeah, alright. See you then. And make sure that kid is clean before you two show up. The cleaning lady is still leaving me distraught notes in Spanish because of the stains on my rug.”

“Will do. You know, you should look into some more child-friendly furniture. Gus is—”

“Mikey, I am not having this conversation. And if I were, I’d tell you that contrary to yours, _my_ kid has style and knows not to soil dad’s European designer interior.”

Just as his best friend broke off another “Oh my God, Jenny did the cutest thing yesterday…” story, Brian was distracted by a tap on his office door.

Cynthia stuck her head in and held up a note. Brian motioned her over, not minding the interruption all too much, and took the piece of paper out of her hand.

 _Jacob found graphic designer — J. Taylor, BastArtDize Designs  
meeting here at ~4 pm today,  
wanna be present?_

Brian gave Cynthia a nod before forcing himself to refocus his attention to Michael. It’s not like he missed anything. Those stories always ended with Jenny having made a cute face or a gargling sound that Michael chose to interpret as an attempt at forming the word _daddy_ , no matter how off he was.

“…and yeah, that was two days ago. Isn’t that cute?”

“Supercute.”

“I should mention that Mel thought it sounded more like _goobie_ or something, but well.”

Brian decided not to point out that _goobie_ and _daddy_ would most probably be two completely different sounds. “Alright then, so I’ll see you and the little spelling champion on Sunday.”

Brian leaned back in his chair and tried to will his secretary via telepathy to come back in carrying a fresh mug of coffee.

He scrolled through his schedule for the next week and tried to remember the last time he got laid.


	2. Chapter 2

**Step 2: Find Compatibilities** / _Hello, New Context_

 

Today, it was _orange_ daisies, Gerbera. One could always hope.

They ate together, mostly in silence. The suspicious looks, the accusing stares usually spoke enough.

“I’d ask about Daphne, but I doubt I really want to hear it.”

“She’s fine,” Justin answered anyway.

“ _Fine_ , huh?”

A change of topic was still the easiest way. “I have an interview for a freelance job later today.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. With a pretty prestigious company, actually,” he said, fleshing the information out with shallow details.

“I thought… I thought the whole point of your little design thing was that you wouldn’t have to work for anybody.”

He closed his eyes briefly. “I am self-employed, remember? It just works a bit differently in our branch. We get inquiries from companies, and sometimes we apply for a particular project.”

Justin left twenty minutes later, when the daisies’ heads seemed to have a slight wilt to them already.

 

+

 

Brian had just finished his conference call when his intercom buzzed with Cynthia’s voice informing him of the arrival of Justin Taylor and that Jacob is already interviewing him in his office.

Brian was not very keen on doing this at that moment, but logic preceded and reminded him of the importance of staff decisions. He crossed his office and entered the conference room through the partition shields. Grabbing two of the boards that had landed him the Eaton Electronics account a couple of hours earlier, he stalked out of the room. He might as well test the guy for his competence.

After one quick symbolic knock, he entered Jacob’s office.

“Ah, Brian! This is Justin Taylor. Justin, meet Mr. Kinney.”

The guy stood and held out his hand. “Nice to meet you.” Justin Taylor tilted his head to the side. “Or have we already met?”

 _Papers from Ted, surprise party, rainy day. Your hair stuck to your forehead._ “Not that I recall,” Brian lied and shook the offered hand.

“Oh, wait, my _non-surprise_ surprise party? Remember? I wanted to let you in and I…”

 _Fiddled with your keys, had dropped your key chain, parked approximately four miles away._ “Oh, yeah. Vaguely.”

Justin seemed to consider that answer but then responded with a smile, pulling his hand away.

“Justin was just showing me his portfolio,” Jacob said, resuming his flipping through the work samples.

Brian went to stand behind Jacob to catch a look himself while Justin sat back down. Somehow, he already knew Justin was good.

“You did that billboard for the Steelers?” Brian looked up, surprised. “That was pretty good.” It was brilliant, was what it was.

Justin seemed to know that for he replied with a confident “Yeah, thanks.”

“Did you come up with the idea yourself or were there specific guidelines?” Brian asked, turning the portfolio around, studying it some more. He knew the guy usually responsible for the Steelers’ marketing and his work sucked by default.

“I, um… well, it was pretty much a last-minute job, so they wanted us—my partner Jerry and me—to come up with some ideas, some concepts to choose from.”

Brian closed the portfolio, concentrating on not looking too impressed. How old was this kid? He looked about twelve but the work was of a quality you don’t see often. Brian cast a quick glance at Jacob, who grinned around the nearly chewed to death pen in his mouth. Fucker.

Jacob turned back to Justin and they started talking about different design programs, a topic that Brian admittedly didn’t know too much about anymore. Six years out of actually working with the design programs was like half a century in this business. So, instead of pretending to know what they were talking about, Brian busied himself leafing through a folder of references, diplomas and a résumé. Pretty impr—

“…while we were in college and yeah, it all went pretty well, so that when we both graduated, we had a humble assembly of clients.”

Jacob nodded appreciatively. “And Jerry, is he using _InDesign_ for…”

Brian went back to looking through Justin Taylor’s résumé. No shit, the guy was 24. He graduated from PIFA two years ago. And his father was Craig Taylor?

“No interest in the electronics business, Mr. Taylor?” Brian asked out of the blue. Jacob and Justin just blinked at him. “Craig Taylor, your father. He still holding that fort?” Brian didn’t know what had gotten into him. Firstly, this information was absolutely and 100% none of his business and secondly, where the fuck did this inquisitory notion come from? He studied each line on the guy’s résumé.

“I suppose he is.”

Oh. “I see.” Still, the initial question remained unanswered.

Justin nodded, looking… kind of blank, Brian found.

The staring confused Brian and he sought a steadying point in the résumé. “I… um, see you switched your major from traditional arts to advertising and graphic design halfway through. How come you decided to abjure painterdom?”

“Do you have any idea how hard it is making a living as an old-fashioned artist, Mr. Kinney?”

Brian thought he recognized an insincere half-smile on Justin’s face and wondered if that was his standardized reaction to that question. “I see your point,” he agreed. “I’m just wondering how someone would want to name their company _BastArtDize_. Sounds like a schoolboy joke to me.”

The guy just leaned back in his chair and smirked. “Not everyone can come up with a brilliant reference to physics, Mr. Kinney. Besides, got your attention, right?”

That he did.

Justin Taylor left Kinnetik ten minutes later, with a contract draft and a file on the Zamora account in his hands.

What stayed was Brian’s weird feeling of anxiety. He decided to overlook the fact that he forgot to _test_ Justin. And when Jacob later brought by the boards Brian left in his office, Brian would deny ever carrying them around.

 

+

 

Having narrowed his strangely uneven moods down to exhaustion and horniness, Brian contemplated the rest of his day. It was times like these when he missed the baths. Go in, check your clothes, get steamed up, find a willing mouth or ass, have one or two orgasms wash over you, get your clothes, go home.

Brian tapped his pen against his desk, watching the ball pen point come out and duck back under its covering again. And again, and again.

Finally, his call was answered. “Yah, Mikey? I might meet you guys tonight, after all. Nine at Woody’s? ... Yeah, alright. Babylon afterwards? … Good.”

 

+

 

The guy wasn’t bad. His ass was tight and hot. The slutty moans were a little too much, though. Brian _was_ good, but come on, this wasn’t a porn shoot.

Brian was getting close, nevertheless, and if the speed of the guy jerking his dick was any indication, he was, too. He pounded the orgasm out of him and braced his hand against the wall as he did. Moany Guy shot stream after stream against the dark wall and Brian welcomed the spasms around his dick. He drove deep into the guy’s ass and closed his eyes to the release he found there.

After a minute during which the trick panted like he was trying to fake a marathon run, Brian pulled out, tossed the condom into the nearby trashcan and zipped up. The blowjob he’d gotten earlier wasn’t half bad either, so this should have done it for now and allow him to head home decently satiated.

The guy shouted something after him, but Brian walked on and found his friends at the bar, sipping their respective drinks and cackling. He decided to leave no fifteen minutes later, having found the short-lived dance floor endeavor not half as entertaining as Michael or Emmett.

 

+

 

Brian got home feeling frustrated and he didn’t know why. He’d come twice — nothing earth-shattering, but still. He’d had a successful day, landed Eaton Electronics even though the rep was a bitch, but whom he sent home his dazzled new fan anyway because he was brilliant.

All in all, life was good. Pretty great, actually.

He rolled the heavy door to his home shut. The sound of his keys hitting the counter pissed him off, as did the fucking bowl with the avocados and lemons. It just… _stood_ there. _So_ annoying. Rolling his eyes at the coat whose zipper had the nerve to clink against the metal part of the bar chair, Brian headed for the bathroom.

Leaning against the cold tile, with the hot water chasing down his body, Brian’s hand automatically reached for his dick. That pissed him off, too.

It was a habit that had established over the course of the past couple of months. Brian got up early, jumped under the scalding hot spray and saluted the day with a quick self-hand job. After an average twelve to fourteen-hour work day, he came home and beat off while taking a quick shower before his food was delivered. It was about efficiency. It was quick and a far cry from hot.

Sanjib, the Indian guy who — strangely enough — delivered his _Thai_ food, was always there within 20 minutes to receive a 50 percent tip. By the time Brian was done unpacking the containers and snagging a beer from the fridge, the computer was booted and logged into the company network.

Afterwards, usually having spent one or two more hours on work, Brian would have just enough energy to camp on his sofa and flick through TV channels for an hour, maybe even take advantage of the paid-for porn channels.

Tonight it was too late for Thai food and Brian actually too exhausted for an encore jack-off that would be more routine than pleasure anyway. He silently promised his dick to hire more people and engage in more quality fucking again once he had time capacities.

Brian threw himself on the sofa and randomly hit the buttons on his remote. He stopped on a porn channel.

Adjusting his jeans, he thought he might not be too tired for jacking off, after all. The awful elevator-like porn music resounded through the open space, but Brian only heard the moans of the guy bottoming.

He opened his pants and stroked himself to images of a blond, non-hunky guy getting pounded into the table.


	3. Chapter 3

**Step 3: Eliminate Obstacles** / _Of Girlfriends and Sell-Outs_

 

Justin was not excited about the prospect of his night. But his involvement with Kinnetik had just landed him a big commission deal and he could suffer through one evening for that.

“Don’t pout,” Daphne told him, handing over his suit jacket. “Have I mentioned how proud of you I am?”

Justin had to grin as he pushed his arms through the sleeves and checked his reflection in the mirror. He’d never known anyone as supportive as Daphne. He was so lucky to have her. She looked gorgeous in her black dress — very elegant, yet not too overstated. Justin told her so and she twirled an extra round. “How’s it feel trading your sweatpants and Carnegie Mellon shirts for fancy attire?”

“Pretty great,” Daphne admitted. She had been slaving away for her master’s thesis for the past couple of weeks and practically didn’t do anything besides brooding over her books and feeding her laptop typed data. The little time she actually spent away from the dining table and its newly acquired function as a desk was to bring books back to the college library and borrow an entire stack of others. There had been days when Justin left an already computer-booting, page-flipping Daphne for work around 8am and when he came home ten hours later, he found her in the exact same position he’d left her in.

She obviously craved change badly, otherwise she’d never have agreed to accompanying Justin to this business function so easily. Especially since Justin had spent the better part of the past week venting about the client.

Robin Zamora was a stuck-up snob, who had made his money by selling out all that was dear to his father and former CEO of the family company. It had worked out well for Robin, and the company was now a multi-million dollar concern that brought in one of the state’s highest revenues every year. It also added considerably to the downsides of globalization, the cracking investment markets and the environmental pollution.

Daphne had called Justin a wannabe-tree-hugger when he gave her that list.

Mr. Zamora was also the guy who paid Kinnetik, and therefore, BastArtDize Designs quite a load of money to promote his crude, capitalistic methods. He was the same guy Justin had to pretend to like at tonight’s event, where Robin showed off his personal art collection that he so generously lent to one of the local galleries.

Whenever Justin would feel like a sell-out he told himself that once he’d earned enough money and some status, he would only work for companies that gave him a good conscience dealing with. Right. Just like he was going to only buy fair trade cotton clothes and stop supporting Nestlé once he was out of college.

“You ready to go and schmooze up the mighty and evil?” he asked.

“Wait, will I have to actually talk to those people?”

“Nah, don’t worry. You’re just the arm candy.”

Daphne hit Justin in the arm with her tiny purse and off they went.

 

+

 

The place sucked. No, actually, the place didn’t — the people did. Justin grabbed another one of the champagne glasses that were constantly being circulated around the room and surveyed the scenery while sipping.

He didn’t even like champagne.

Mr. Kinney had been giving him odd looks throughout the evening and Justin didn’t know where to put either of them. They ranged from appearing almost hostile to some kind of intense staring, from which Mr. Kinney would seem to snap out of before turning away again. Justin had told Daphne about those _intense looks_ he felt he’d been getting, but as usual, impressions of such kind tended to sound rather ridiculous when you said them out loud.

Daphne had spent most of the evening so far chatting with Ted and his partner, Blake. She’d given up trying to coerce Justin into joining their little elusive circle about an hour ago and Justin hoped Ted and Blake didn’t take it personally. It was just that Ted seemed to always be in Mr. Kinney’s proximity, swarming out to his side whenever figures were talked, and as a result, so was the group.

Justin was surprised that people spent as little time looking — or feigning to look — at the art. After all, one might think that this was what the evening was about. Only, it wasn’t, of course. It was about Zamora being a prepotent jerk, about the gallery owner’s lips being glued to his ass, and about everyone else attending to their contacts.

Sipping on his champagne, Justin scanned the room again. Tonight was the fourth time he saw Mr. Kinney. The fifth, if one counted that one time on the street when he recognized him from afar. The book shop Justin had ducked into in a touch of inexplicable behavior had turned out to be really nice, though. He even found that special edition of _Fahrenheit 451_ he’d meant to keep an eye open for.

Justin forced his eyes away from the designer suit-clad back and watched the phony gallery owner talking to one of _the wives_ , who nodded at the right moments but who also looked like she was mapping out escape routes in her head.

 _From afar_ , Justin actually found that quite entertaining.

“Ten bucks says she’s gonna excuse herself to the bathroom in the next two minutes, even though I know she went not half an hour ago because I ran into her in the hallway.”

Justin hadn’t known that gulping down champagne could be so hard. He’d done so well before. When he finally managed, he gave what he hoped was an unimpressed smile. “Hi.” Justin was sure he just strained something in his throat.

“Hey.”

“Are you enjoying the evening?”

Mr. Kinney scoffed. “You mean as little as you?” he asked, snagging a glass of champagne from one of the ever-present trays.

Justin felt a beginning flush betraying him.

“Don’t worry, I get it. It should be about the work you’re doing, not about the ass you’re kissing.”

“Thank you.” Justin sighed, relieved. “I just never attended an event of this kind before so I didn’t really know what to expect.”

“I figured. I had to learn to endure the superficial socializing and keep my mouth shut, too.” He smiled then, and Justin wondered if the champagne in his stomach was planning a putsch.

“So. At least you’re enjoying the art, right? I noticed you were one of the handful of people to actually take a look.”

“Oh, yes, I am. Although I’m really surprised that no one would make a deal about the De Kooning over there. I almost dropped my glass when I spotted the tag.” And Justin had almost started a conversation with Mr. Zamora because of it. Almost.

“De Kooning, huh? I bet everybody here just knows to avoid the topic by now. This isn’t the first of Zamora’s glamorous displays.”

Justin found the client’s name sounding a great deal nicer from Mr. Kinney’s mouth. “Well, one of De Kooning’s works sold for over 120 millions in an auction a couple of weeks ago, so I’d think it would still be a big deal that he has a work of the same artist in his possession.”

Mr. Kinney frowned and took a gulp of champagne. “Shit, 120 millions?”

“Yep.”

“On second thought, this one’s probably a fake.”

“Yeah?” Justin asked, amused.

“Either that or we’re charging him too fucking little.”

“Fake, then.”

“Definitely,” Mr. Kinney confirmed.

Justin felt the smile on his face and realized it was probably his first genuine one tonight. He wondered if Mr. Kinney noticed, for he stared at him for a couple of seconds. There was something like astonishm—no, Justin was clearly imagining that. He blinked and looked away.

Mr. Kinney cleared his throat. “Is it me or does this champagne taste like shit?”

“It kind of does. But it’s still a great deal better than the punch.”

Both their gazes landed on the punch bowl across the room just as Daphne turned to get herself a glass.

 

+

 

“You should probably warn her,” Brian advised. He liked the sound of Justin’s answering laugh.

“I believe this is one of those things everybody has to learn on their own.” Justin grinned. “It will harden her for the real world.”

“Tough love, huh? I feel for your girlfriend,” Brian tried to mock and then the button on his sleeve demanded to be fixed right away.

“Oh, well,…”

“Hey!”

“Oh, hi, what’s up?”

There was a strange pitch in Justin’s voice and Brian wondered what that was about.

“Just wanted to check up on you,” Daphne said and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. She then turned to Brian and held out her hand. “Daphne Chanders, Mr. Kinney. I’m sorry we haven’t been introduced properly. Justin isn’t the smoothest at these events.”

“Pleasure.” Brian lightly shook the offered hand. The only thing he could concentrate on, though, was how her arm looped itself through Justin’s.

Intended for Justin’s ears only obviously, Daphne said something about _getting up early_ and _brunch at mom’s place_ , and Brian was still staring at their linked arms as he processed the brunch info.

“Mr. Kinney, it was nice meeting you,” caused him to snap out of it. He smiled at Daphne, said some form of goodbye to Justin and tried not to stare as the latter made the rounds before heading out.

Well, at least Brian had his answer.

Not that there was ever any question.

 

+

 

Justin threw his suit jacket into the backseat and banged the door shut. “Thank god, we’re finally out of there. Twenty minutes longer and I would’ve told everyone you’re having cramps.”

Daphne chuckled and got into the passenger seat. When Justin got in as well, she hit him with her purse.

“What? I have a right to use that. After all, it is me who has to go out in the middle of the night getting your stupid cramp voodoo tea and your tampons, because you are, and I quote, _dying, and the suffering was all for nothing since you won’t live to have kids_.”

“Not everything herbal or homeopathic is voodoo, Justin. You men are just ignorant.”

“That we are.” Justin put the clutch in reverse and maneuvered them out of the parking lot. He heard Daphne taking a breath and sighed. He knew what was to come.

“I’d like to see you dealing with my cramps for _one_ hour. Honestly, _one_ hour, Justin, and you’d build me a shrine!”

He rolled his eyes and cast a quick glance at Daphne rummaging through the glove compartment. She came up with a pack of gum just as they left the parking garage.

“Give me one.”

“No,” she said decisively. “Ask nicely and I will _consider_ giving you one.”

“Would you please let me have a piece of gum from the pack _I_ bought?” That got him a strip of gum.

Daphne leaned back in her seat and stared out of the window. “That Kinney guy is hot, huh?”

A chuckle. “How am I supposed to respond to this?”

“Oh, forget it.” Daphne patted Justin’s thigh. “I’m kind of hungry. That buffet sucked.”

“You won’t hear me arguing there. What’s the time? Maybe we can still order some pizza? Or do you want to stop somewhere?”

“Nah, let’s just cram out some party leftovers from the freezer. We have to start eating that stuff at some point.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Step 4: Show a Subtle Interest** / _Taking Care of Business_

 

Justin was sitting in the cold, unbelievably uncomfortable office, waiting. He rubbed his eyes again, this time so hard, he ended up with those annoying dots blurring his vision.

Of course that asshole would leave him waiting, probably timing it so Justin had enough time to admire all the diplomas adorning the walls. As if he hadn’t been here a dozen times already.

The door swung open. “Justin, how are you?”

“Hello, Doctor Matthews.”

Doctor Matthews sat down and started shifting papers around—stalling.

Justin found that getting pissed came so easily around this guy. If he was going to try and start talking about the weather like last time, he’d—

“Justin, I’m afraid we’re running out of options.”

Yeah, it was going down just as Justin had been dreading it. He knew what was to come next.

“There are facilities a lot better suited for this. As a matter of fact, I have good connections to—”

“No.”

“Justin,” came the sigh.

“You know how those places are!” Justin jumped out of his chair and started pacing around the office. “They strap you down and sedate you at the tiniest sign of trouble. Once you’re in there…” He squeezed his eyes shut.

“Justin, it’s not like that anymore. They have qualified people, they could help—”

“But they won’t.” Justin was sure of that.

“Listen, Justin. I have worked every loophole I could find, I have called in just about every favor of the personnel here. I—… Look, I’ve been doing this because I’ve known your family for decades. But there are only so many guidelines I can stretch. There is no improvement, it—it’s only getting worse. You can’t tell me that you haven’t noticed that yourself.”

He had. Justin wasn’t stupid. Just not… _ready_.

“Therapy isn’t working,” Matthews continued. “Not the kind of therapy we can provide here anyway. We’re just delaying the inevitable. We’re not fit to handle this here, we just aren’t.” Dr. Matthews rubbed his forehead. “Did you know Dominic had to get five stitches because of the book incident last week?”

Justin nodded, biting his thumb nail. “I already apologized to him.” Repeatedly.

“It’s not your place to apologize, Justin. It doesn’t change anything.”

“Well, maybe I could—”

“Justin!” Dr. Matthews took a deep breath. “Look, I’m giving you two weeks to make a decision. After that, the decision will be made for you.”

Justin felt the walls tumble in around him. He sat down and stared at the nametag stuck to the white coat.

“I’m sorry, Justin. Believe me. But she can’t stay.”

 

+

 

 _Well, what the hell_ , Brian thought and ate the turkey sandwich complete with the not ordered slathering of mayo. He wasn’t in the mood and too hungry to send it back and wait for a new one. Why he didn’t opt for going home and ordering take-out he’ll never figure out. He snatched the latest issue of _Out_ from the next table and started eating.

He was almost done with his meal when a “Hey, Bri!” gave a bitter taste to the last bite. “Theodore. What brings you here?”

“Oh, we were just walking back from the movies.”

“We?” There was no one else there. Ted turned his head to look as well and the bell on the door jingled.

“Hey!”

Brian had no idea why, but seeing Justin, thinking about him even, always gave him an inexplicable feeling of anxiety and then, frustration.

Justin walked past them and into the direction of the toilets and Ted sat down across from Brian.

It was weird to think of Theodore being friends with Justin. Really weird. “How do you know him anyway?” Brian asked, annoyed. _And why the hell are you taking him to the movies?_

Ted had just started leafing through the paper Brian had pushed away and looked up. “Who, Justin?”

“Yeah.”

“We met at the hospital. I mean… you know, the rehab facility where I stayed, it was connected to the hospital. I met him in the cafeteria once while his mother was staying there. He came to see her quite often and we would run into each other sometimes and have coffee. And we, well, we got along really well. He liked my humor.” Ted stopped to glare at Brian’s scoff. “Anyway, I was glad to have someone to talk to from the outside world and, crazy as it may sound to you, he was obviously enjoying my company, as well. After I was released, we stayed in touch.”

For some reason, this felt like a lot of information to process. Brian was obviously not at his best. “How is it you were even allowed to wander about and into the adjoining hospital?”

“Rehab is not prison, Brian. After you’ve bridged the worst of the withdrawal, you can go out for a walk and stuff. I was… well, I was scared to actually go outside, so I would just walk around the corridors.”

“Of course they would let a not quite sobered drug addict stroll into a hospital, essentially a legal drug market.”

“Well, Blake knew some people and yeah, he trusted me.”

Brian felt the remark on his tongue, but was distracted as Justin returned to announce his leaving and Kiki slapped his check on the table.

Brian didn’t know how exactly it happened, but he and Justin ended up walking together to their respective cars.

“So. You and Ted, huh?”

“Um, yeah? We were at the movies.”

“So you don’t mind that he’s what, almost twenty years your senior?”

“Not really.” Just as Brian was becoming frustrated with the conversation, Justin added, “Who cares when you — for lack of a better word — click, right?” And somehow, despite the fact that they were talking about Theodore Schmidt, this even made sense to Brian. “With Ted I had an instant connection, and so yeah. We’ve become pretty good friends.”

Brian rolled his eyes. The non-discriminative routine would surely make Justin popular. “You must have shitloads of friends. On Facebook, at least.” Brian inwardly cursed himself for thinking that comment to be fitting the situation.

Justin laughed, though, and that image in profile didn’t look remotely as unflattering as one would expect. “Actually, no. See, the clicking thing doesn’t happen too often. Not to me, anyway.” Justin shrugged. “Besides, Facebook sucks.”

Brian could only agree, probably on more than one count. The only friends he had were people he’d known for over a decade. Or people that Mikey had brought along, like Emmett or Ted. Practically no additions had been made over the past, what, eight years? Brian was still unsure whether or not to count Ben as a friend.

So, clicking. Justin had obviously clicked with Daphne. And he would quite possibly be clicking with her for the next couple of years.

“Oh, that’s me,” Justin said, pointing towards an old Toyota. “So, I guess I’ll see you on… _Tuesday_ , was it?”

 _Tuesday, 4pm, last touch-ups before the finalization of the concept with Zamora on Wednesday._ “Something like that,” Brian said instead, because he clearly couldn’t know all appointments that involved Justin Taylor by heart. He was a busy man.

“Bye!” Justin said, opening the car door.

“Yeah, later.”

Watching the car peel out into traffic, Brian decided that _clicking_ was a stupid concept, anyway.

 

+

 

Brian smashed the door of the men’s bathroom shut.

“WHAT THE FUCK was that in there? Do you not realize that your job is to design the shit I come up with, nothing more? Who the hell do you think you are butting in on the concept?!”

“I’m sorry, I’m just—”

“Not that it matters, but I thought we’d agreed on the concept and the road map to kissing his ass?” _Just fucking yesterday!_

“Yeah, that was before I found out just _how much_ of an asshole he is.” Justin ran a hand through his hair, leaving it sticking up into various directions.

It distracted Brian. “You-you can’t just… fuck, Justin, you have to keep personal aspects out of your work! This is the fucking finalization! This is it! We can’t tweak the concept now. Not unless Zamora absolutely insists. This is what we fucking worked for the past weeks.” Endless late nights and take-out fruit cups at 10pm came to his mind.

“I can’t do this, Brian. This guy is just about everything I believe to be bad and evil.” He reached up to matt his hair back down and Brian wanted to stop the action with a passion equivalent to that of one wanting to stop a car crash from happening.

And just before he shouted _Stop!_ he remembered how fucking angry he was. How angry Justin made him. “You’re just… you can’t!” His palm hit the wall next to the mirror. “Christ! I can’t fucking argue with you! You’re so goddamn frustrating!”

“Uh.”

Brian leaned his back against the tile. He had no idea how to handle this situation and that was not something he was used to.

“Brian,” Justin started, and Brian wondered when they’d switched to first-name basis. “Integrity is esteemed. Especially in your position, where you can practically _choose_ your clients. Do you have any idea how much I would give to be able to always act after my own conscience?”

“ _You_ ’re an idiot.” Brian shook his head. He’d meant for this to come out a lot harsher. “This is _advertising_ , not utopia. You’re paid for promoting whatever the client wants. You’re paid for promoting it the best way you can come up with. You’re paid to promote the useless product of a guy who’s a disgusting, ignorant, cheating, homophobic bastard. It’s business.”

“And doing that makes you feel good?”

“Seeing his money in my bank account makes me feel good.”

“You’re an idiot,” Justin mumbled.

Brian looked up sharply and saw Justin gulp.

 

+

 

The next thing Justin knew he was storming out of the bathroom. He went to the employee kitchen and poured himself a glass of water, but his hands were shaking and he spilled some.

It was the next thing he knew, because the minute and fifteen seconds before that? They did not happen. They couldn’t have. Because if they had, it would mean that he’d… that he’d _kissed_ Brian. No! That _Brian_ had kissed _him_.

And that Justin had let it happen.

It had been brief, very brief, but Justin could have pushed away sooner. He should have.

When he did, dark eyes bore into him and his body had hurt all over. It had fucking _hurt_ , and he didn’t understand.

Justin’s lungs had been forcing air in and out of his body violently when he tried to somehow dodge Brian’s gaze after… after…

“I… ”

“Right.” Brian pushed away from the tiled wall and turned to the. “Daphne?”

“Huh?” Justin thought that solid ground should feel more steady.

“Your girlfriend?”

“Oh… yeah.” Justin looked up and stared at Brian’s reflection. He briefly wondered why his being straight wasn’t the much stronger argument, but then their eyes met in the mirror and it was too long. Much too long.

That’s when he’d run.

Justin couldn’t get his thoughts in order. He put the glass of water to his lips and chugged it.

When he returned to the conference room five minutes later, Brian was already there. They finished up the meeting, with Justin keeping his mouth shut the entire time. Not that he would have been able to formulate a whole sentence.

When it was over, he avoided eye contact with Brian as he said goodbye.

Then, he went home to Daphne.


	5. Chapter 5

**Step 5: Find Out Details** / _Strawberries. And Kiwi. And Shellfish._

 

“Justin!”

Justin jerked out of his thoughts. Since it had happened four days ago, Justin kept replaying the bathroom scene on repeat in his head. “Sorry, what were you saying?”

“Are you alright?”

“I’m okay. I’m just stressed at work and… yeah.”

Two cold hands touched his cheeks. She checked his forehead, too. “You’re not getting sick, are you?”

“No, mom. Don’t worry.” He smiled.

She sometimes went through phases like this one. Phases where she would be nothing but a caring mother. These phases were getting far and in-between, but Justin found it hard not to revel in them.

He couldn’t allow himself to, though. The disappointment afterwards would shred him all the more if he did.

“You aren’t taking proper care of yourself, are you?” Her voice was soft like the one Justin chose to remember her by. The sincere concern in it felt good. Too good. It wouldn’t last. Especially with what he had to do now.

He looked around the room, trying to generate some strength, but the daisies on the dresser already hung their heads.

They were blue ones today. Justin hadn’t even tried to fool himself into thinking optimistically. _Blue_ felt appropriate.

“So, I talked to Dr. Matthews this week. He says he found a nice place for you to stay.”

“No.”

“Mom.”

“NO!”

“Look, you either have to go somewhere else or you’ll have to start therapy.”

“I want neither of those things! I want my apartment! Why won’t you all leave me alone? I have an apartment!”

It broke his heart every time she brought the apartment up. He knew there hadn’t been any other options, and he’d sold it at a good price, but the guilt was still there. The money to pay for her bills had to come from somewhere — the cost of the facility and doctors had started exceeding his own financial power long ago.

“You can’t live there by yourself, you know that.”

She blinked, irritated. “I’ve lived by myself for the past nine years. I also raised you and your sister all by myself, if you might recall. And I never let anything come on you two. _Never!_ I gave everything to be a good mother, did I not?”

Justin closed his eyes.

“Did I not?”

“Yes.” A croak. It was true.

“All I ever wanted for you was a good life. A good education, a good job, and later, a good wife, kids, a family. Even if it means with that Daphne girl. That’s all I ever wanted for you. That’s what I’ve lived for. And this is how you thank me.” She looked around the room, disgusted, angry. “I’ve dealt fine on my own. I’ve dealt fine before you abandoned me here.”

“I didn’t abandon you and you know that.” Justin tried to reason as he always did. With less and less success.

“At least if you wanted to get rid of me, you could have left me alone in my apartment. You could have at least given me that.”

“Mom, you weren’t fine alone and you’ve had a fractured knee and collar bone and several other accidents to prove that.”

It had been a year ago now, but she still couldn’t walk. Her body just wouldn’t heal itself. It had probably given up on her.

“Was I supposed to let them kill me?”

 _They_ had been the landlord and the chimney sweep. It had been the yearly routine check of all the fireplaces in the house.

But Justin was not going to tell her that. Not for the fiftieth time.

“Mom.” He took her ever cold hand in his. She resisted only a little. “Mom, look at me.” It wouldn’t work. It never did. But Justin couldn’t give up just yet. “Please, Mom, please let them start therapy,” he begged.

Jennifer yanked her hand from his hold. “Get out of my house!” she yelled. “I don’t want to see any of you people ever again!”

 _This wasn’t her. She wasn’t herself._ Doctor Matthews had advised Justin to tell himself that.

It didn’t always work.

It was time to get some coffee. Justin willed himself to take a couple of deep breaths and stood up. “I’ll be back in fifteen minutes. I’ll bring you a magazine from the cafeteria.”

Jennifer regarded him through the distrustful slits that had become her mimic reaction to almost everything. It was the look that Justin refused to memorize her by, that he wouldn’t let replace the open, lively looks that lived in his memory.

Breathing normally became easier the further along the corridors he got. The coffee vending machine still wasn’t fixed. Fortunately, by now, Justin was an expert. He jiggled the release lever twice, gave the side of the machine three smacks and waited.

He checked his reflection in the narrow mirror next to the cash-gobbling monstrosity. His shirt looked different from the one he remembered throwing on that morning, though Justin knew it was the same. His face… something looked different about his face. He had noticed that yesterday already. It just felt different. His shirt felt different. His skin felt different.

What if the mirror knew that Justin had kissed a guy?

But no, it didn’t count because he’d pushed Brian away. It had only been three or four seconds, if that many.

He could still remember how Brian had tasted.

Brian had fucking kissed him and it really could’ve been no more than a couple of measly seconds. Seconds after which he’d realized the wrongness.

And as he had, he just pushed.

 

+

<<

Brian wasn’t sure how exactly it had happened, but somehow between Cynthia telling him that she was ordering take-out from that new Chinese place and now, he’d ended up in one of those ridiculous no-lumbar-support swivel chairs that, paradoxically, were supposed to be good for your back, grouped around Cynthia’s desk with her, Ted and Justin. They were talking about the most trivial things, teaching Ted how to hold the chopsticks, mocking Ted about the chopsticks, and messing up the overzealous receptionist’s sacred post-it system.

Brian couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt that relaxed.

It was 10pm by then and their day had been a tirade of stress and bitching and Cynthia had ordered that they all unwind when they finally finished for the day. Tomorrow would be the final presentation to Zamora and Brian was looking forward to not having to deal personally with the guy any longer. Justin had mentioned much of the same when he came in in the afternoon. Originally just wanting to discuss last touch-ups, Brian suddenly thought of trying a couple of different things and Justin ended up occupying a desk at Kinnetik’s art department for the rest of the day.

Sometime during the course of the evening, when he’d sent Justin to tweak a design for the tenth time — something Justin was irritatingly immune to — he’d decided that Justin was going to be at the meeting the next day as well. Justin had been heavily involved in the project and it was only practical to have someone there who could answer technical questions regarding the design.

Cynthia dug into the third of the food bags and put out the mixed fruit cups she’d ordered for dessert. “I didn’t know what everyone likes, so I got four different mixes.” She chose at random and put one of the cups in front of everyone.

Brian watched Justin lift his cup and inspect the contents. He put it back down.

“Here, you can have mine.” Brian reached over and switched their cups. “You’re allergic to strawberries, right?” _And to kiwi. And to shellfish._

A week ago, they had somehow touched the food allergies topic.

“Oh, you remember that? Thanks!” Justin smiled, and Brian silently added a couple of more things to the list in his head.

He poked Ted with the little plastic spork when he asked if Brian would switch with him, too.

>>

+

 

Brian swore this was the last time that he fed that stupid coffee vending machine money. You shouldn’t be made to pay for stuff that tasted like hot water with sugar and presented itself in the ugliest color imaginable.

Back in the room, he handed one cup of steaming tastelessness to Debbie, earning a distracted _“Thanks, honey.”_

God, he hated hospitals. The smell, the endless parade of scrubs, the people running around in their bath robes. And now he was going to spend his whole afternoon here. Between beeping machines and old people in wheelchairs who looked at him longingly and/or angrily because he could _walk_ past them.

He hated how it almost made him feel guilty and how he had to deliberately shorten and slow his strides.

But it was Vic, so he had to come. Even though it was on his much earned free day.

“You don’t need to stay here, Brian. Go home,” Vic said, and Brian briefly wondered if he might have said his previous thought out loud.

“No, ’s fine.” Brian petted Vic’s shoulder. Somebody had to drive Debbie home, after all. And she didn’t look like she was going to leave any time soon.

He fished out his blackberry and checked his to-do list. He still needed to email Justin an okay for the Eyeconic draft, having put it off for indefinite reasons.

He hadn’t seen or talked to him since the stupid kiss incident a couple of days ago and the thought of seeing Justin again made him feel uneasy and weird.

This kind of awkwardness was new. It pissed Brian off.

What the hell had he been thinking, anyway? One minute, they were talking about the Zamora finalization ahead of them, joking over Ted’s chopstick skills (or lack thereof) and eating stale fruit out of plastic cups, and not even twelve hours later, he was kissing Justin in the goddamn men’s room.

Justin wasn’t even _that_ hot! He looked like a fucking high-school kid! He was annoying and too fucking aware of his talent.

He was also a breeder, for Christ’s sake. Sure, he’d gotten a vibe from him here and there, but at most, Justin was some pathetic closet case. And Brian was so completely not going to deal with that.

Brian crossed through the room and sat in one of the uncomfortable chairs by the tiny window, half-listening to Debbie and Vic.

Besides, he had better things to do than try and steal Justin away from Daphne. _Plenty_ of better things. Brian wasn’t one to steal. Men threw themselves at his feet, waited in line to suck his cock. He didn’t _need_ to steal.

No, he was better than this.


	6. Chapter 6

**Step 6: Await a Good Timing** / _Hooked (Up)_

 

The day just wouldn’t end.

Justin was tired and frustrated. “Jerry, please, just get it done? I know I messed up with the deadline for Solomon, but this thing earns us four times as much.” Frankly, Justin didn’t know why he’d agreed to another job for Kinnetik. After the Zamora almost-fiasco, he’d figured they’d never hear from Kinnetik again. But then an email from Ted came, containing first, a couple of chitchat lines, second, a link to a hilarious video, and third, a semi-official job proposal.

Justin had replied almost instantly with _1\. Yeah, we should do that some time. I’ll ask Daphne (and maybe Tom? You remember him?). 2. Shit, I watched the video a minute ago, totally cracked up and knocked Jerry’s favorite mug over. I think I’m seeing a crack in the handle. 3. Sounds good._

He listened to his business partner’s rambling about order of importance and loyalty for a couple more minutes before he offered to get them both coffee and Red Bull.

“Yeah, we’ll be needing it,” came the grumble.

“Again, Jerry, I’m really sorry. I had problems with—”

“Your mom, yeah.” Jerry sighed. “Look, man, I think it’s amazing how much you do for her, how you’re breaking your legs trying to take care of her.”

Justin started worrying the hem of his shirt between his fingernails. He had heard several variations of this speech already, both from Jerry and Daphne. They meant well, he knew that.

Jerry obviously knew better than to make it all too long, though. “I’m just saying you can’t put your complete life on hold for her.”

“I’m not…”

“When’s the last time you took a few days off? When’s the last time you did something just for yourself? You’re either here or at the hospital. Daphne also says that you hardly spend any quality time together anymore.”

“I know,” Justin mumbled.

Jerry came over and gave him a brief hug before resting a hand on top of Justin’s head — something he’d been doing ever since they met. “Do you know that by now I feel totally bad whenever I take a couple of days off?”

Justin looked up. “No, I don’t want that.”

“Of course not, I know that. It’s just that I know you’re not giving yourself a break ever, and that’s why I spent my ten days of well-deserved vacation on Bali feeling guilty.”

Jerry grinned but Justin knew it was the truth. The days he had taken off in the last two years could be counted on one hand.

“And don’t you dare apologize now!” Jerry added. “I’m just saying—”

“Yes, I know. Thanks.”

“Good. Now, go and pick up some caffeine and taurine. Maybe, if we drink enough, we can outsmart time and actually finish this fucking copy tonight.”

“Well, we have to, actually.” Justin bit his lip and started moving towards the safety of the door. “I’m meeting Ted late tonight because the boards have to be in print first thing tomorrow.”

“When exactly did you intend to tell me about this new deadline, you asshat?”

“And two bags of gummi worms, got it!” Justin almost squealed when he hurried out, ducking the pencil that flew after him.

 

+

 

It was exactly 9:30 pm when Justin reached Kinnetik. He looked up on the dark building, eyes exhausted, mind pensive. Ted would show up soon.

The caffeine and sugar high he’d tended to all afternoon was finally starting to wear off. In half an hour he would feel completely drained.

A door opened then and Justin whipped around.

“Uh, hey. I’m waiting for Ted?”

“Well, seems you’re getting the boss instead. Must be your lucky day.”

Justin wasn’t so sure about that. It felt like the sugar high was making a comeback, after all. “Well, I was just going to hand him the final mock-ups. He said they would have to be at—”

“Yes, come on in. I have the other designs in my office.”

“I… don’t think this is a good idea,” Justin thought aloud and watched as something in Brian’s face hardened.

“Relax. I got the message. And contrary to what you might believe, I do have self-restraint.”

If only Justin could have said the same.

 

+

 

Brian had never fucked a virgin.

He had told people differently on occasion, but the truth was that he hadn’t. There had been guys that begged him to be their first, but he would never do it. It was some kind of responsibility, it would make him a particular _landmark_ in a person’s life, and he never wanted to be that guy.

Now, though, was different. Now, Brian wanted to be that fucking landmark. He wanted to be it all.

How it had happened exactly, Brian wasn’t sure. One moment he was going through the designs with Justin, then, some sort of short-circuit in his brain, and the next thing he knew were his fingers digging into the corners of Justin’s jacket and he was tasting sticky sweetness on Justin’s lips. There was a subtle, unidentifiable but addictive taste, as well, and Brian couldn’t help but chase for more.

He finished sliding Justin’s jacket off, kissing jaw and neck, sucking on the skin, biting. He was being too fast, he knew it, but he couldn’t stop. Not his kissing Justin, not his hands moving down to Justin’s pants. Three more clicks of the zipper and Brian’s fingers slid into pants, gliding along smooth skin.

Justin’s mouth fell open, his eyes squeezed shut, but all that came out was a puff of hot air.

Brian made a silent oath to make him scream.

They stared at each other as Brian’s fingers stroked along the hem of Justin’s underwear. When he started sliding beneath the fabric, Justin’s breath hitched. But Brian’s fingers crept lower. Crept lower still, through soft hair, crept until— Justin stopped them.

Brian stared into terrified eyes as he felt tense fingers clutching at his wrist. But he couldn’t let go, he couldn’t stop now. He needed to show Justin how good he could make him feel. He needed to have him.

Brian decided quickly. Swallowing the surprised grunt, he dived between Justin’s lips. He put everything he had into that kiss, letting Justin feel the want, the need, hoping to share the tingle he wasn’t fucking imagining.

And slowly, Justin’s grip on his wrist loosened.

In one swift encouraged move, Brian slid his palm down, curled his fingers around Justin’s hard cock and crashed his mouth down harder on Justin’s.

Justin’s fingers dug into the arms that were holding him. He panted into Brian’s mouth, and Brian loved the wet, hot air between them. Fuck, it was so good, Brian wanted to—

A noise, disruptive and real.

A cell phone. Justin’s cell phone. Ringing. A ring that became clearer and clearer through the haze. It came from the floor, from the pants that lay pooled around ankles.

Justin pulled away from Brian, harshly. He pulled his pants back up and zipped and buttoned them before he answered his phone.

“Hey, Daph. …Yeah no, I’m alright. I was… yeah, I’ll be out in a minute.” He snapped his phone shut. Turning back, but not looking up at Brian, he grabbed his jacket from the floor.

Brian didn’t make a sound.

“I’m sorry, Brian. I—I’m not…” Justin fumbled with his shirt. “This is not… I don’t want this.”

Then, he hurried out of the office, leaving Brian to stare after him.

 

+

 

“Hey, what’s going on?” Daphne asked as soon as Justin entered the car.

“N-nothing. It’s nothing really, I’ll tell you some other time.”

“Did Ted like the work?”

“Uh, yeah, he did,” he lied. “Everything’s good.”

“Great!” She bent to give Justin a kiss on the cheek. He flinched. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Yes, sorry, I’ve been feeling weird all day.”

“Uh-huh.” She sounded unconvinced as she pulled the car out into the street. “So, won’t you ask me how my evening was?”

“Oh, right! So?” He turned to look at her.

“I can’t believe it either, but it was great!”

“Really?” Justin was surprised.

“Really. Ken is such a nice and funny guy, I think we really hit it off. First, we…”

Justin watched her face in profile while she talked and drove. Watched how it lit up, animated and beautiful. During a pause, he could only say, “Wow, um…”

“Why the hell are you so surprised?” She threw him a quick look. “ _You_ ’re the one who hooked us up!”

Justin had to laugh. “I know! I’m just… I’m sorry. I’m happy for you, Daph.”

“If this is some jealousy issue—”

“Will you shut up, you drama queen? Why would I be jealous?”

Daphne giggled. “ _Aaaanyway_ , I was just gonna say, don’t worry, even if I might finally get a boyfriend, you’ll always be my number one!”

Justin shook his head and smiled. It was moments like this when he realized how long they’d known each other. How much she was still that goofy curly girl who packed grass into Billy Houser’s school bag for calling Justin a bad word. “You just wanted to say that line, didn’t you?”

“Ummmaybe!” Daphne grinned and popped her gum.


	7. Chapter 7

**Step 7: Be Patient** / _I Want You to Want Me_

 

Thursday morning didn’t start out too well when the alarm went off at what felt like half an hour after Brian had fallen asleep.

On the way to the shower, someone hit replay in his head. Again.

 _Justin_. Justin, in his office, yesterday. Justin, pressed against him, tasting of sugar and of heat.

Brian turned on the water and let it run to _muscle-relaxing_ hot before he stood under the spray.

Justin. The soft hair on the back of his neck, the smooth skin, the moans he tried to hold back but that vibrated through his body anyway.

Fuck, Brian had wanted him. Even now the thought made his fingers itch, his cock fill and his mouth have withdrawal issues.

He groaned and adjusted the water temperature down. Cold turkey it was.

 

+

 

A day later, Brian was back at the hospital.

Vic’s new drug cocktail seemed to be failing on the first test round.

Consequently, he was also back on the hunt for coffee. It seemed the coffee vending machine from hell had finally given up service for good and no amount of verbal abuse was going to change that, as a nurse had explained to Brian.

Brian wasn’t proud of himself when he realized he’d gotten lost, but at least he spotted a coffee machine at the end of the corridor. He sighed with relief when the—albeit thin—stream of coffee started flowing and the cup filled slowly.

“Were you looking for me?”

Brian turned around and saw the woman in the hallway corner. “Excuse me?”

“They sent you, didn’t they?”

“Not that I know of.” Brian frowned, then turned away and cursed the coffee machine for taking so long.

“I know that you’re part of this. So just end it already!”

Brian rubbed his forehead. “Look, lady, I’m just here to get some coffee, alright?” He turned and saw that she’d wheeled herself closer to where he was standing. The look in her eyes made him feel like a public enemy.

She scoffed, boney fingers clasping at a bright orange pashmina, eyes still distrustful. “You’re telling me you’re not here to take me?”

“I assure you, I’m not.” He reached for his plastic cup and took a sip. Even this crap tasted good at the moment.

Brian noticed her battered hospital bracelet. The name was upside down but he could still read it. _J. Taylor, room 205._

He couldn’t help the snort. Another fricken _J. Taylor_.

“Jennifer!”

Brian turned to see a nurse hurrying down the corridor.

“There you are! I’ve been looking all over for you! You know you shouldn’t be out and about by yourself.” The nurse took hold of the woman’s hand. “I’ve been worried, Jennifer. Don’t do this.”

“I can do whatever I want!” With surprising strength, the frail woman yanked her hand away.

The nurse sighed. “I hope she wasn’t troubling you,” she said, looking up at Brian.

“Uh, no, that’s alright.”

“I don’t want to go back to my room!” came the yell.

The nurse stared at her with intent, voice almost stern now. “If you don’t behave, I’m going to have to tell Justin.”

Jennifer’s lips formed a thin line, but the bellicose look went from her eyes.

The nurse just nodded and wheeled the woman into the direction of the elevators, prattling about _dinner_ and _playing cards_.

And Brian just knew. They had the exact same eye color.

He threw the lukewarm coffee down his throat and walked.

 

+

 

Twenty unnerving minutes later, when he knocked on the door, nobody answered.

“Mrs. Taylor?”

“Who—Who wants to know?”

“I’m— I have your scarf,” Brian said to the grey door. He looked down at the orange cashmere in his hand. He’d found it right at the end of the corridor where they met.

“Come in.”

She was sitting in a stuffy chair by the window and Brian was surprised by how different she looked in this particular setting. The floral patterned decor made her look organic, too.

Leaving the elevator at the psychiatric ward had made Brian feel a little uneasy already and now that he was here, he had no idea what to say. Not that he was here to fucking _talk_.

He noticed the flower bouquet on the dresser — a couple of petals were wilted and stuck out unnaturally against the rest.

“You like flowers?”

Brian cleared his throat before answering. “Not particularly.”

“My son brings me some every Wednesday. Always daisies.”

The other J. Taylor. Right. “Right. So, I just wanted to give you your scarf.” He stepped forward and laid it on the dresser, right next to the flowers in the vase. Then it was time to leave.

Reaching the door, he told her goodbye and made the mistake of turning back to look at her one last time. Her scrutinizing eyes bore into him. No doubt she had him pegged for some kind of evil henchman.

She took the pachmina from the dresser and her face suddenly cleared. “You know, you might be one of the good ones, after all.”

Brian blinked, gave a faint nod and closed the door.

He had trouble believing that.

 

+

 

Brian didn’t tell Michael about his strange encounter when he drove him home later.

Instead, he decided to complain. “You really need to get a car, Mikey.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re always dependent on someone else chauffeuring you! How do you even get around all day? How do you transport your assembled hubby and kids?”

“We usually take our bikes. Or well, the bus.”

“Well, that’s ridiculous.”

“Uh-huh. Why the sudden interest in my mode of transportation?”

“Forget it.”

“Okay.” Michael looked out the window.

They drove in silence for a while.

“You know Justin, right? One of my freelancers?” Brian had never been known for his subtle approach.

“The blond kid? Yeah, I’ve seen him a couple of times. He and Ted were—”

“Yeah, yeah. What do you think about him?”

“Um… he seems… nice, I guess? I barely know him.” Michael turned to look at him and Brian felt caught. “What kind of conversation is this?”

“No, this is not…” Fuck, this was supposed to be casual.

“Do you want to fuck him?”

Yes. “ _No!?_ I’m just wonderi—”

“You do! You want to fuck him! And…” Brian watched Michael’s eyes widen. “Oh my god, he’s _straight_!”

Brian tried to scoff. “That’s what he says.”

“Wait, wait. So, we don’t believe him?”

“We don’t know yet.”

“Um, Brian, this doesn’t sound like a good idea.”

“What doesn’t?” He hadn’t even said anything!

“Whatever it is you’re planning to prove that he, that _no one_ , can resist you.”

Why did Mikey have to have one of his clever moments right now? “I don’t necessarily want to fuck him, I just… want him to—”

“ _Want you_? Brian, you can’t fuck with people like that.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“You want him to come out of his — possibly nonexistent — closet and mess him up just because you can’t deal with the fact that for once you want a guy that you can’t have. And once that’s settled you’ll cross him off your to-do list — oh, look at that pun — and move on. Did I get that right?”

Living with a professor obviously paid off for Michael. Brian rubbed at a spot on the dashboard.

“So I did,” Michael concluded. “You know, I think that’s the most _assholish_ thing I’ve heard from you in a while.”

“What? It was you who just went ahead on a rant. You didn’t _hear_ any – _assholish_ or not – thing from me.” And what’s more, something about the way Mikey summarized didn’t sound right. “And it’s not like that. I don’t want him to… He just frustrates me, is all. I’m not gonna do anything.” Brian stopped the car in front of Michael’s place.

“Really?”

“Yeah. He’s straight and that’s that. Let’s forget about this, okay?”

“Sure.” Michael didn’t look convinced as he grabbed for the handle and got out.

Brian went home and checked Justin’s restrictedly visible Facebook profile for the fourth time that day. He couldn’t believe Justin had Ted friended. In real life even.

He hated Facebook more than ever.

 

+

 

Justin had never particularly cared that his jerk-off fantasies didn’t contain specific pictures. He’d never shared the appeal of _FHM_ wallpapers or _Victoria’s Secret_ catalogues.

But that was okay. He always told himself that he just didn’t need specific images.

At 24, he’d had sex exactly once, and sometimes, when he heard about other friends’ exploits, he did wonder if that was odd. April Johnson was the girl. When they were rolling around on the disgusting carpet of her dorm room after endless shots of _Cuervo_ one night, they vowed that they’d lose their virginity before the end of the semester or they’d have to sleep with each other.

And that’s exactly what they’d done at the end of the semester, during another _Cuervo_ -soaked night on April’s disgusting carpet. It hadn’t been particularly good, but then, they were both very drunk and had no idea what they were doing. Justin only remembered that he’d gotten off alright and that her skin had looked really nice under the faint light from the bedside lamp.

They’d actually managed to stay friends for the rest of college, albeit it was kept a bit shallower than before.

A couple of weeks after his first time with April, things with his mom had started falling apart and Justin started to invest a lot of time in his design work. Not much time to look for getting laid was left.

Adjusting the shower spray to a little colder while his hand continued to slide up and down his dick, he felt a difference. He felt it in every pore. He knew he should stop and get out of the damn shower, but he couldn’t. Turning around, forehead against tile, he just jerked harder. The fog in his head cleared, pictures defined slowly, and he had to brace himself against the tile.

Justin came to sharp angles — strong jaw line, dark hair, skilled hands — and the memory of a warm mouth on his neck.


	8. Chapter 8

**Step 8: Know Your Goals** / _Yes. Maybe._

 

One week later and Brian hadn’t gotten any further.

One week of checking a certain Facebook profile daily, all because of some ridiculous and completely unfounded notion that Justin would set his profile to public one of these days.

But things were going to change now.

Brian straightened his shoulders. “So, Justin, here’s the thing: I need to fuck you,” Brian let the words resonate. “And I need to do this because I probably just have to get it out of my system. So, what do you say?”

Brian waited, but the only answer he got was silence.

“Fuck,” he muttered, grabbing his briefcase from the counter and heading out.

His coffee machine used to be such a good conversation partner. If not even Jura-Capresso bought his offer, how the hell was he supposed to pitch this to Justin?

Not that he intended to do that, of course.

 

+

 

“Back!” Justin dropped his bag and sat the pizza carton down.

“Extra anchovies, I hope?”

“Of course.”

Jerry opened the box while taking in Justin’s appearance. “You okay?”

“Yeah… yeah, just not sleeping so well currently.”

“Ah.” A string of cheese hung from Jerry’s mouth already.

“So, we finished that website, what else is on the schedule today?” Justin asked, grabbing a can of coke from the mini fridge.

“Well,” Jerry, still in his office chair, rolled himself back to his computer, waving a pizza slice in his hand. “We still gotta finish that other website design for that charity organization at some point, but that’s not really urgent.”

“How so?”

“We’re barely charging them anything, remember? That’s why we left so much leeway.” He clicked through the schedule on his screen. “Right, and by the end of the week, we need to have the designs for those concert posters ready, as well as the big prints for the Zellham gallery.”

Justin yawned. “I finished up those poster designs last night. I didn’t change much, after all. You were right, it was the saturation. I can email the files to them today.”

“Right. Oh, and, Kinnetik called while you were out.”

“They did?” Justin asked with a mouth full of fizzy drink.

“Yeah, they want us to do another job. Some big-shot shoe manufacturer.”

“But we just finished the Zamora job.” Justin felt like that was reason enough. He remembered Ted emailing him about the job. He’d even kind of given him a yes. But it hadn’t been official then. And he hadn’t made out with Brian then. And his life had still been kind of alright then.

“And?” Jerry sunk his teeth into a new slice of greasy pizza and mumbled through a full mouth, “We do have capacities.”

“You already agreed, didn’t you?”

Jerry swallowed. “Of course I did.”

Justin sighed.

“Why the hell would I not? The pay is great and Kinney loves you, apparently.”

Justin choked on his Coke. “What?”

“Yeah, his assistant called with the new commission and mentioned that Kinney is a total fan of your work so far, but that we shouldn’t hold our breaths waiting for him to say so. Something like that.”

“Right.” Justin chewed on his lower lip. “Well, _our_ work.”

“Huh?”

“If anything, he is a fan of our work.”

Jerry laughed. “Shut up, you handled like, 90% of this gig alone. And that’s totally fine, so you can keep those lame placations in your princess-sized purse.”

“It’s not a fucking purse!” Justin barked. “Will you ever stop with this shit? It’s from a men’s store. It’s a bag in a practical size.” Justin fucking loved that bag. It had the perfect fucking size. It was manly, too.

Jerry laughed and tore off a chunk from the cardboard lid. He placed a pizza slice on it, then pushed it into Justin’s direction. “Cynthia’s going to send us the details within the next two days. Here.”

“I get a whole slice? Oh, you’re so good to me,” Justin mocked.

“You know me, I’m a giver. See, I even gave you the slice with the most mushrooms because I care about your vegetable intake.”

 

+

 

Stress-eating didn’t suit him, Brian decided, and tossed the falafel into the next sidewalk bin.

He was going to make an appointment with his massage therapist instead. He’d order the deep tissue shit this time. Roman could just fuck off with his stupid microwaved stones. He’d have Cynthia call him later.

An elderly woman glared when he crossed the absolutely car-empty street at red and Brian once more wondered why he’d decided to walk.

The window display of that tacky artistry shop made him stop and shake his head. Orange tulle was just one of the more harmless décor offenses. Brian’s grin vanished when he saw a box of crayola sitting on a tiny scaffold.

Justin used that brand. Brian had seen the same box peeking out of his weirdly sized bag when— nevermind.

He turned around to walk on. But there, right on the corner was a couple leaning against the building, kissing and laughing.

Was that… _Daphne_?

 

+

 

The red flowers looked out of place in the yellow vase, but it didn’t matter.

She’d dosed off a couple of minutes ago, still weak from the sedatives they had pumped into her during the night. Among other things, she broke the vase they always used for the red flowers, the dark one that had accentuated the red nicely. Justin wondered if he should even bother replacing the frames for the pictures of him and Molly.

Sitting by her bed and looking out the window was a very familiar setting for him. Usually, Justin would let his mind wander, but lately, his thought expeditions haven’t been safe.

He couldn’t stop thinking about Brian.

Fuck, he should have just insisted that Jerry canceled on Kinnetik. Then again, Jerry wouldn’t let that go and Justin would have to explain. And explain he could not. It wasn’t like he had a clue himself.

Justin didn’t know who the fuck he was anymore. The only thing he knew was that his two weeks to make a decision about mom were almost over.

 

+

 

“And then I see that slut sucking face with the guy!”

“And…?”

“What _and_?!”

“Well, I’m waiting on the part where you tell me why we are discussing this.”

“Be-cause,” Brian pressed out, waving his hand in front of him. “It means that that girl is cheating on him!” How could Mikey be so obtuse?

“Well, maybe they’re seeing other people, too. Polygamy is not exclusive to gay men, you know.”

“It is in this city.”

“What?” Michael closed the drawer of the cash register and it gave a ping. “You know, this is like, the most worked-up I’ve seen you in forever. Even weirder, it’s because of supposed _cheating_. Since when the fuck do you care?”

“I don’t _care_ …”

Michael smiled at the air-quotes and did the same. “ _Uh-huh._ ”

“It’s just that…” Brian turned away when Mikey’s gaze became too heavy. “Justin isn’t that kind of guy.”

“What kind of guy?”

“He just… he just wouldn’t be…” Brian decided to glare at Mikey for good measure while he searched for words. “Say, even if they had agreed on fucking other people, this was different.”

The glaring didn’t help, Mikey still looked at him through big eyes. “Different how?”

“They were… Daphne and that guy, they were doing that whole lovey-cutesy crap.” Brian rubbed the bridge of his nose. “They were leaning against that building, all…”

“All what?” If Mikey didn’t look so clueless, Brian would be convinced that he was enjoying this.

“You know… kissing and… hands together… and giggling…”

“Giggling?”

“Yes, fucking _giggling_ , okay? You know what I mean!”

“I guess.”

“The point is: you don’t do that with a random fuck.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” Mikey scratched his chin. “So, what you’re saying is that she’s cheating on him, even by _your_ standards?”

“I guess.”

“So, you _do_ care?”

 _Yes. Maybe._ “No! I just don’t want him getting fucked over like that.” Brian blinked at the wall, then made a beeline for the bean bag sofa and plopped down. He felt exhausted.

Michael just blinked at him. Finally, many moments later, he spoke in wonder, “Christ, Brian.”

Brian rubbed his forehead. “Fuck, I know.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Step 9: Make Your Move** / _Abstract Art_

 

 _Cyn: mock-ups, ticket. Ted: report_ , Brian quickly typed into his organizer under the table. He was going to try and send someone else to Chicago next week to deal with Brown. Maybe Phil or Anna — he disliked them both.

“I’ve always regarded shoes in a philosophical manner.”

Brian looked up and saw four heads nodding.

“Think about it, they take you everywhere, they are witness to your every adventure. They are more or less your alter ego.”

The heads agreed again and Brian had to fake a cough.

When he looked to the left end of the table, he saw Justin rolling his eyes not at all discreetly. Brian faked another cough.

Suddenly a finger was pointed in his face. “And I want our campaign to reflect that!”

Brian cleared his throat. “Of course, Mr. Denning.”

“Swell!”

Turning his head while Denning was busy collecting praise from the nodders, Brian raised an amused eyebrow at Justin. During the last couple of minutes, he’d kind of forgotten about the weirdness between them.

Justin smiled back. He must have forgotten, too.

He also looked kind of frustrated, Brian found. He probably had a different idea of a Friday night. Well, he wasn’t the only one. Brian’s idea was to get high on the dance floor and get blown in the backroom, maybe have some ass for an encore. He hadn’t been to Babylon in a while.

He tried for another solidarity smile and Justin returned it again, brushing hair from his forehead. Brian still knew how it had smelled.

And just like that, everything shifted. Justin averted his eyes, Brian felt his skin prickle and he knew that they both remembered. When Justin looked back up, Brian noticed a pink tinge spreading beneath his eyes. It made him hard.

“Mr. Kinney, who do you think our target demographic is going to be?”

Shifting in his seat, he turned to Mr. Denning. “Well, given the character of the products and the message you want to convey, I’d say we’re looking at ages 50 and up.”

“Ah yes, good demographic,” Denning said and resumed his talk with the people to his right.

Brian took a sip from his wine and waited a bit before he looked back to the left. He hadn’t expected Justin to be staring openly at him. When Justin finally looked away and bit his lower lip, Brian felt a twitch in his groin. It almost hurt.

The frustration set in like it always did and Brian wanted to hit something. Enough! He had not lived his life boldly, unapologetically, and whatever else adverbs he’d been awarded, to now let this _thing_ , whatever it was, go unanswered. He had to do something.

So when Justin excused himself to the bathroom a minute later, looking a bit flustered, Brian decided to take a chance. He followed him.

 

+

 

Brian washed his hands, a task that demanded greatest concentration. He pushed the button for the soap dispenser for the seventh time, something the guy standing next to him obviously noticed. The man stared, but fortunately, lost interest quickly and left.

It was just the two of them then.

Brian prepared, felt ready, but no. One quick look at Justin and he felt his resoluteness dive out the window. He braced himself against the sink. It felt slippery. “Justin, I don’t know what the fuck to do here. Are you…”

“Freaked out? Yeah. Confused? Big time.” Justin rubbed a hand over his forehead, slumping back against the wall with a faint thump.

“Look, I…” Brian didn’t know what to say. Nothing that came to his mind seemed to fit. His indecision turned into helplessness when Justin looked up at him, open, waiting for answers.

Brian had none. He watched as Justin’s eyes glazed over, listened as his breathing sped up. He moved closer and still looked on. Before he knew what he was doing, Brian was reaching out and tilting Justin’s chin up.

He greedily filled his nose with Justin’s smell while his mouth tasted. He waited for Justin to open his lips and inhaled deeper. Brian kissed, licked and, finally, slid his tongue into Justin’s mouth. He swallowed the little grunts, pressed himself closer. When it threatened to become too much, he tore his mouth away, breathing hard. “I want you,” he mumbled into Justin’s neck, wet and hot and true.

Brian pulled back a little, looking at Justin’s face again. The pink lips shimmered and he had to nip at them again, with damp breaths mingling in the air between them. He watched Justin swallow and licked along the bobbing Adam’s apple. Brian’s body ached for this and he was going to lose his mind if he didn’t—

“Yeah,” Justin finally whispered.

Brian’s mouth was suddenly dry. “My place?”

Endless moments, filled only by breathing.

Then, faintly, “Yah.”

 

+

 

Justin followed the Corvette through the dark streets.

He would have had all the time to change his mind. He could have easily turned off somewhere and gone the fuck home.

But he didn’t. He wouldn’t be able to go back to how things were, anyway. It may have only been kissing – and a bit more – so far, but his universe had undeniably been unhinged at some of the main holders.

He parked a couple of spots behind Brian and reached for his cell phone. Brian was already getting out of his car and something hot uncurled in Justin’s stomach watching him. _Gonna be home very late tonight, don’t worry_ , he quickly typed and sent. Then, he took a deep breath and got out of the car.

Universe unhinged already, he might as well let it spin.

 

+

 

Brian pushed the last bit further, pushed until there was, finally, _everything_.

He panted, his chest constricting in an awkward rhythm as it pressed to Justin’s back. “Are you okay?” His tongue felt raw, bruised.

Justin shuddered and moaned and clutched his fingers into a pillow next to his head. Brian watched and wanted to make the pain go away, wanted Justin to feel nothing but the pleasure. He pulled on Justin’s hip, repositioning their spooning bodies just a bit when a noise of discomfort stopped him. “Justin?” he murmured into the neck that smelled of perfection. “Are you…? Should I…?”

Justin let his head fall to the pillow, panting. “Just… wait,” he breathed. “ _God_ , just wait.”

So they just lay there, Brian buried deep inside Justin, unmoving.

After a while, Brian let his fingers abandon their initial position on hips, roaming out to stroke over twitching stomach muscles and chest instead. His fingertips smoothed along the skin below belly button while his lips skimmed from a shoulder blade to right under a soft earlobe.

And it did the trick. Justin seemed to relax, his breathing sounding more even.

Slowly, mouth and tongue unable to leave the fragrant neck, Brian reached for Justin’s cock. He didn’t miss the low groan from Justin’s lips when his fingers curled around hard flesh.

Justin’s body was still tightly clamped around his dick, and it cost Brian quite a deal of self-restraint to keep his hips still. But the want to make him feel comfortable, _amazing_ , won out. He moved his hand up and down on Justin’s cock, pressure firm, slow.

“Brian…” Justin wheezed. “Oh God.”

Brian bit his lip. He still needed to be closer. He wanted to fucking imprint his whole body on Justin’s. And for once, he thought, he would not mind receiving some marks of his own.

His right hand, squished beneath Justin’s body, splayed out to press against Justin’s stomach. He used it to bring Justin’s pelvis back against his, sliding him the last bit onto his dick. He heard the hitch in Justin’s breathing and felt the resulting pulsing on his own dick.

Moaning into the moist neck, Brian sped the movement of his hand up. He felt the very shallow bucking of Justin’s hips, meeting his fist and bearing down on his cock in a timid volley. “Yeah, that’s it,” he encouraged, feeling droplets of sweat rolling down his temple.

Justin’s response was to let his mouth fall open and tilt his head back. Brian immediately latched on the now further exposed neck and jaw again and soaked up the pulse and life under his lips, mesmerized by the moment.

An overwhelming sense of beauty wasn’t something he usually saw in the act of sex. Yet there it was, a feeling that made him want to go smash color onto canvas and call it art.

A pitched groan, almost a scream, and his fingers were being covered in warm liquid. Justin’s fingers dug into Brian’s forearm, his ass contracted around him. All Brian could do was press a bit deeper and gnaw on the smooth jaw while Justin shuddered around him. Brian lifted his head in time to see the last of white erupting from Justin’s cock and soaking into his dark sheets.

Brian thought he saw color splashes before his eyes, no matter the absence of his own orgasm.

 

+

 

When Brian woke up a couple of hours later, it was cold and the colors were gone.

He reached for the duvet, pulled it up around him and stared at the tangle of sheets on the other side of the bed. He pressed his face into the pillow, but Justin’s smell had already left with him.


	10. Chapter 10

**Step 10: Give Him Space** / _A Son to Be Proud Of_

 

Justin wobbled along the corridor, aiming for his door. How he had managed to make his way home without causing any major accidents, he didn’t know.

It was 6:20 am — he’d learned that from the clock in the entrance hall. But the clock didn’t tell him what day it was. It must be … Saturday, though? Yes, because Friday had been dinner with Denning.

Oh God. Justin smashed himself against the half-paneled wall next to his door. He suddenly found it difficult to breathe.

A door on the opposite end of the hallway opened. Out came Mrs. Goldman with Princess Daisy, the most annoying and most spoilt Yorkshire terrier on this side of the pond.

“Good morning, my dear!” How she managed to make the fake politeness drip from that one sentence like the mucky sweat from a construction worker’s forehead in the summer, Justin didn’t know. What the fuck was she even doing up at this hour?

“Morning,” Justin pressed out.

“Are you alright, dear? You look a little pale,” the lady commented as she passed him on her way to the elevator. Unquestionably, the twelve stairs down to the ground floor were too much for her. Justin thought about slipping that bit of information to the ridiculously overpaid Yoga guy whose professional training lessons Mrs. Goldman called on three times a week — a fact she never failed to mention to whichever person crossed her way.

Justin didn’t know whether Mrs. Goldman’s gaze was more disdainful or Princess Daisy’s. Realizing she was still waiting on an answer, although Justin was sure she appreciated the extra time to ogle him, Justin gave a non-committal smile and went to trip into his apartment.

 

+

 

His skin was still damp from the shower as he fell down on his bed. He wondered if Daphne in the next room had heard him coming home. Then again, no. She slept like the dead.

Justin rubbed his face into the pillow and wondered why the linen suddenly felt so scratchy against his stomach. The towel around his waist was tautened in an awkward way. He wiggled his middle around slightly in order to adjust it and yes, there it was: the stinging. He stilled all movement and breathed into the fabric softener-scented pillow.

A few hours ago, he’d panted into another pillow. It had smelled darker and… just completely different from that stupid _Spring Fresh_ softener Daphne was so fond of.

<<

After he’d come, Justin waited for his brain to start working again.

Brian was still pressed to his back and into his body and Justin wondered how he ever lived without this.

Brian rolled them over, weighing Justin down, and Justin felt his hot breath on his ear. He wanted to laugh at Brian’s words. _“Feel good?”_ If it weren’t for the lingering dizzying sparkles in his vision, he might have been able to answer.

Justin clutched his fingers into the pillows and held on. He was waiting to come down from the high and for the feeling of wrong to set in. But so far, no sign of it.

>>

Justin bit into the fucking spring fresh pillow and couldn’t help moving against the mattress as he remembered what had followed. He remembered how he’d lain there – exhausted, over-sensed, with Brian heavy on top of him and his rock-hard dick still embedded in him.

God, he’d had Brian inside him. Brian’s cock had been… He’d felt so full, the stretch, the pressure so hot and deep.

<<

And then Brian started to pull out, leaving Justin’s body slowly. Before Justin’s mind was able to keep up with his body protesting the retreat, Brian was there again, pushing back in, inching forward, pressing into him.

A scream stuck in Justin’s throat as every nerve in his body rebooted.

Brian moved into him in a slow rhythm then, rocking his hips. Justin felt the friction, the stretch that no longer caused any pain but solely pleasure. Justin felt all there was. Brian’s body covered his again, damp chest against his back, sweaty fingers between his, moist mouth against his neck. Brian took all of him. Justin wasn’t sure if his body belonged to himself anymore. He wanted to name that feeling.

Then, without warning, Brian inched out of him and told Justin to turn around.

Justin was mortified. He couldn’t look Brian in the eye. He couldn’t be face to face with this moment. He hid in the damp pillow. “Brian, I—”

“I want to see you.” Justin held his breath while Brian murmured into the back of his neck. “I want your moans on my tongue.”

Justin was stunned at the words. Never had anyone spoken to him with such intensity, such want. He decided to burst one more restraint tonight and turned around. Immediately his eyes zeroed in on the light sheen of sweat on Brian’s chest, on the disheveled hair. Just a few weeks back he’d thought how great Brian looked all Armani’d up. He didn’t think he’d ever experience him like this, in this raw perfection.

Brian leaned down and kissed him then, and Justin wanted to die in that kiss. He spread his legs wide, slid a hand around Brian’s body, laid it on the small of his back and pulled. Brian moaned and let his body drop down and Justin gasped as he suddenly felt Brian’s sheathed dick against his, slippery and warm and still hard.

He suddenly felt responsible for Brian not having come yet. “You haven’t— I mean, you didn’t—” Brian cut him off with another kiss.

A wet nudge at his hole and Justin held on. He groaned and shivered when Brian drove into him. It was almost too much, too much from this new angle. “Brian!” he gasped and bit his lip against the painful pleasure.

Brian stilled for a moment and searched Justin’s eyes for something. Justin felt exposed but knew he didn’t have the strength to hide anything. He had no idea whether Brian found what he was looking for or not, but welcomed the slide of Brian’s palms against his own and the fingers threading through his.

Justin held tight, panting as Brian pressed into him again, even deeper now. Brian did it again and again, long and absolute, until Justin was nothing more than pathetic little moans, with his nerves yelling and his body straining.

And Brian kept his promise. He stole each of Justin’s moans right off his tongue.

>>

Justin flipped around and stared at the ceiling of his room, breathing hard.

Holy shit, he’d done it. He’d had sex with a man. And Brian had… Brian was… God, he’d had Brian inside of him. It was hard to comprehend.

Justin scrambled up and leaned back against the headboard. And as he stared down on his painful hard-on he realized that there was probably no use in denying… _anything_.

The ringing of his phone was too real — he wasn’t ready yet — but there it was.

He glanced at his alarm clock. “Hello?”

 

+

 

Ten minutes until his meeting with Justin. Brian checked the desktop clock again.

It was only hours ago that Justin had left his bed, that he stole away after they’d fucked. Brian hit the stapler a bit harder than necessary and moved to the next file. He didn’t even know why he was making a big deal out of Justin leaving; he would’ve wanted him out as soon as he woke up anyway. Possibly.

He checked the time twice more until it was finally 10 sharp. Justin was usually on time.

Two taps on his door and Brian knocked over his mug. Luckily, it was almost empty.

“Come in,” he said, but realized that he wasn’t ready. He couldn’t—

“Good morning.”

“Oh. Morning.”

“I apologize, but Justin had some urgent private business to attend to this morning,” Jerry explained. “But I have all his work with me and I am filled in on everything.”

“Yeah, sure.” Brian motioned for Jerry to sit down and wondered where the dull thud in his stomach came from.

“Great.” Jerry started unpacking and explaining right away.

Brian half-listened. He hadn’t assumed Justin to be a coward. He didn’t appear like your average closet case either. But now this. Brian frowned at the bitter taste in his mouth and Jerry paused for a moment but continued without asking any questions.

Fuck that. Brian wasn’t going to play stupid games and he was most definitely not going to run after some closeted kid with a girlfriend at home. He hadn’t lost his mind quite yet, thank you very much.

Their night together hadn’t been special. It was a fuck. _Different_ maybe, but not special.

Not special at all.

 

+

 

Justin sat by her bedside, waiting.

They’d been here before, more times than he’d like to remember, and every time it went the same: him sitting bedside, waiting for her to wake up from the sedatives. He hated her being struck down like this, like a wild animal, but it was the only way when she would go loose.

Her hand lay on the white linen. It was more than filigree, it was almost transcendent. The veins were shining through as if drawn onto her skin with blue marker.

Everything was so screwed up. Everything. His mom, things with… His whole life was just one big mess.

There used to be hope, a lot of it. The make-believe scenarios still ghosted around in his head. On some days, they still made sense even, still worked. _When she let herself be helped, they could start anew._ No, pick up where they left off, even if it took some getting used to. And when she returned to the world of the living, she would be proud of Justin. Proud of how he’d dealt with everything, proud of what he’d made of himself during her absence.

Only, Justin didn’t have anything to show. Right now, there was only mess. Right now, Justin was not the son she would want. It could break her heart if she learned what Justin was starting to learn about himself.

No. Right now, Justin was not worth coming back to.

He bit his lip to redirect the pain. When he could breathe again, he lifted her limp hand to his face and leaned into it. He thought he’d exhausted all the tears long ago, but he was being proved differently. “Please, mom,” he begged her sleeping mind. “Please let them help you.”

He knew that by now, Dr. Matthews had made the decision for him.

Justin closed his eyes, shut out reality. “I’ll be the son you’ll be proud of."


	11. Chapter 11

**Step 11: Don’t Scare Him Away** / _Life Is Not a Flower Garden_

 

 _You have one message on your voicemail. Play?_

 _“Brian, hey, this is Justin. I just wanted to say that I’m sorry about missing our appointment the other day. I had… stuff to look after and— Anyway, um, if you want to finalize the designs before Denning comes in again next week, just give me a call. And, maybe I’ll see you some time? Yeah, uh, bye.”_

Brian heard the water bottles tumble over in the fridge. He might have slammed the door a bit too hard.

The nerve of that guy. Unfuckingbelievable. Brian bet he was home snuggling up with Daphne at the moment, trying to forget everything that happened on his little gay adventure.

Well, Brian was going to forget all about it, too. Starting right this minute. He was sick of jerking off to a memory like some lonely-ass queen.

And what the fuck was that supposed to mean, _maybe I’ll see you some time_?

Justin wouldn’t see Brian. Not for another week.

But Brian saw Justin that night. Justin and his restrictedly visible Facebook profile.

 

+

 

Three days had gone by since Justin had left that voicemail.

He liked Brian. A lot. Even if he shouldn’t. Barely a week ago he promised mom to change, whispered it into her cold hand. Every day since then he had proved himself a liar with every thought of Brian.

They were going to move mom to the mental facility within the next days. There was no way around it now.

On his way home from the hospital, Justin decided to stop by Burger King and get twenty bucks’ worth of forgetting his shitty day.

Maybe… maybe it could still be alright. Maybe, it wouldn’t be so bad, being gay. God, his night with Brian had been amazing. It had felt right then, Justin had felt right for the first time in a long while. But since, _nothing_. Not a word from Brian, business or otherwise. At first he was grateful, he had to focus on not being gay anyway, but after some of the denial had lifted, he felt alone.

Had his lack of experience turned Brian off? Was Brian out there somewhere, fucking his way through gay Pittsburgh, laughing at Justin’s inadequacy? Did Brian like him, at all?

In a form of innocent trial, Justin had already assigned Brian to a potential place. Maybe Brian could be one of the few real things in his life, one of his ups. Some time over the last days, the thought had turned into a naïve wish.

Who knew, maybe mom would even approve. Some day.

At home he put the soggy bags on the counter and looked for his cell phone. Missed call? What the hell? Why didn’t he— Oh, right, he’d put his phone on silent.

He had one new voicemail.

 

+

 

“Oh, Christ,” Brian cursed and quickly changed to the other side of the road.

But he was followed. “Mister, uh, Kinney?”

Brian ignored her and walked on.

“Mr. Kinney!”

“What!” He halted abruptly.

She took a startled step backwards. Good. “I… I’m Daphne. I don’t know if you remember me, I was with—”

“I know who you are. What do you want?”

“I don’t know how to say this, but um,” she bit her lip, but then blurted, “What have you done to Justin?”

“What?”

“It’s just that… he doesn’t seem himself these days and I know it’s got something to do with you. Apparently, you’ve left some unsettling voicemail…? But he won’t tell me any details or backstory.”

“Of course he wouldn’t.” Brian felt the sneer as deep as in his bones. Yeah, he owned that fucking sneer. Him and maybe Jennifer Taylor.

“Look, I’m just… I’m worried about him, okay? He’s… I don’t know how much you know, but he really has a lot to deal with. Please don’t make it worse, okay? That’s all I’m saying.”

Brian didn’t even know where to start. He couldn’t believe this girl. “What the fuck are you talking about? I’m not the one who— I… What the fuck is your problem?!”

Daphne blinked at him. “Can you just tell me what happened? I just want to understand—”

“First, this isn’t any of your business. Second, I believe you’re about the last person I would discuss it with.”

“What? Why? I’m his best friend!” Her tone reminded Brian of Mikey. Creepy.

“His best friend?” Brian scoffed. “How nice. And I bet you’re his soul mate, too.”

Daphne gave him a weird look. “I, um, well, I wouldn’t go that far…”

“Whatever. I’m going.”

“Wait!”

Brian gnashed his teeth, but apparently, she didn’t hear it.

“Look, would you just tell me—”

“Where the fuck do you get off? Pretending to care about poor Justin’s feelings when at the same time you’re off cheating on him?”

Now that shut her up.

Not quite.

“Excuse me?”

“Yeah, I fucking saw you. So don’t stand here and tell me how much you care when you so obviously don’t.”

The look she gave him disturbed Brian. It was too intense. Finally, her eyes widened and she said, “Something really did happen between you two, didn’t it?”

Yeah, _something_.

 

+

<<

 _Deep breaths, Justin_ , he told himself. One voicemail from Brian and he was close to a panic attack. And he hadn’t even listened to it yet.

A couple more minutes, two more glasses of water, and Justin’s finger hovered over play. He pressed.

 _“Justin, I don’t know how you possibly could have missed this, but let me reiterate, I’m not someone who plays ridiculous games. We fucked and that’s that. Won’t happen again and don’t worry, I have no intention of upsetting your little straight world of bullshit. I’ll see you next week for the finalization. Cynthia will email you the time.”_

He was a disappointment for mom and Brian didn’t want him. It was two simple truths, right there, but too much anyway.

With shaky fingers, Justin hung up and cried.

>>

+

 

“How ya doing, Vic?” Brian sat down in the rickety chair.

He’d been sitting at the diner for lunch earlier, _not_ contemplating the whole Justin-Daphne-bullshit situation for the hundredth time, when Debbie sat down across from him. He didn’t really listen, what with all the _not_ thinking about ridiculous shit, but managed to somehow nod at the right times, which it later turned out resulted in him having agreed to drive Deb to the hospital a couple of hours later.

Three days since his run-in with Daphne aka _the-cheating-bitch-girlfriend_ and he still wasn’t any wiser.

“Marvellous,” Vic joked and waved his IV-stuck hand for effect.

Vic had always had the ability to make small talk come easily for all involved, so that’s what Brian did. Debbie came in after a while, still flushed from her visit to the nurses’ station in order to discuss _the shit they call dinner around here_ , and Brian didn’t have to do much of the talking after that.

He left for a smoke and coffee, but somehow found himself on floor two a couple of minutes later. As soon as he realized it, he wanted to slip back in, but the elevator doors were already closing again.

“I remember you,” a young nurse greeted him, all smiles. “You brought back Mrs. Taylor’s scarf, didn’t you?”

Brian was disgusted by her cheeriness. She made him sound like a fucking boy scout.

“Oh, are you here to visit her? How lovely!”

 _Not_. “No, I was just…”

“Oh, I’m sure she’d be delighted to see you. She doesn’t have many visitors.”

A minute later he was shoved into room 205.

“Have I lost something else?” Jennifer asked, blinking.

“Not that I know of,” Brian answered, foregoing the hello, as well. “What’s going on there?” He pointed at the daisies that looked way past their expiration date.

“I only throw them out when I get new ones.”

“I thought Ju— I thought your son always—”

“He usually brings me fresh daisies every Wednesday. He hasn’t been here in a couple of days.”

Brian looked at the big wall calendar. It was Saturday. “I see.” He watched as her expression changed to a strange grin.

“Ha,” she sneered. “I bet they told him not to come. I bet he’s one of them now. Sure, dump the old hag and abandon her. Dump her at some hospital, at some loony bin! Pah, of course!”

“You’re not in a loony bin.” Brian had no idea what else to say.

“Oh, but I will be! Soon!”

Brian hated Cheerbear nurse for doing this to him. “Yeah, so, I’ll be going then. I’m sure Justin will come to see you soon.”

“I doubt it. I’m sure he’s busy with his little artistry business or with that skank.”

Anger bubbled up inside Brian and he hurried to the door.

“He’s abandoned me, I know it.” Jennifer’s voice had lost all its mad force. “He’s abandoned me.” Brian thought he heard a concealed sob in there somewhere.

With one last look at the wilted flowers, he closed the door.

He spent another half an hour with Debbie and Vic and when they decided to head home, he told Debbie to meet him at the car in fifteen minutes.

Ten bucks lighter, he dropped the pathetic excuse for a white daisy bouquet off at the nurses’ station on floor two.

Cheerbear was happy to deliver them.

 

+

 

It was another couple of days later when Brian got to see Justin again. He’d had time to think more productively, fresh pot having put a nice perspective spin on some things the night before.

One and a half weeks had gone by since he’d slept with Justin. There had been Justin being a no-show, then his voicemail, then Brian’s slightly angrier voicemail in return, then there’d been Daphne on the street and Justin’s mom at the hospital. It had been a bit much to take in.

When Justin came in, he never once looked at Brian. He also looked like shit and something inside Brian twisted a little. It somewhat confirmed what Brian had come up with last night: that he might have gotten some things wrong.

They were going to hold the meeting in the conference room, with Ted and Jacob joining them.

“Justin, a word in my office?”

Justin seemed to blanch. He darted a quick look at Brian and nodded feebly.

Doors closed, Brian didn’t know where to start and wished he had some of the pot from last night. He wondered if Justin really felt that uncomfortable around him, for he kept pulling on his sleeves. He hated that thought.

He watched as Justin took a deep breath and opened his mouth. “Thanks for bringing flowers to her.”

Brian was caught off guard and decided to listen.

“She… I don’t know how exactly you… but um, I hope she didn’t bother you too much.”

Was this what made Justin so uncomfortable? The mother?

“What is her… I mean, what does she…?”

Fortunately, Justin was already nodding his understanding. “Schizoid paranoia.” He took a deep breath. “That’s what it’s called. It has been a long time coming, but only in the last couple of years did it get really intense.”

“And…” Fuck, how does one ask after these things? “You’re alright… and all?”

“I think so, yes.”

“And you’re okay with…” Brian motioned between them.

“With the fact that I’m probably gay?”

“Yeah, that.”

“I guess. Granted, I would have preferred this realization to happen with a guy who actually wants me for more than one fuck and who doesn’t find out about my completely fucked-up family situation by accident, but what can you do.”

Brian didn’t like the bitterness in Justin’s voice. Not at all. “Justin, I…” He stepped closer and watched as Justin wiped furiously at his eyes.

“God, I hate that I’m crying in front of you. I’m being a total twat.”

He wasn’t. Brian wanted to tell him even. Tell him that he was dealing with everything pretty well, actually, considering. Tell him that he was pretty amazing.

He had one more question, however. He took a couple of steps towards Justin. “Daphne. She’s not your girlfriend, is she?” Brian reached out and tilted Justin’s head up with two fingers.

Justin, eyes still wet, shook his head.

Brian nodded and kissed him, soft and unhurried.


	12. Chapter 12

**Step 12: Adjust Your Approach, If Needed** / _Not in Kansas Anymore_

 

In his defense, Brian had known from the beginning that this was a stupid idea. It had been Ted’s idea, after all, and any idea of Ted’s outside the accounting/financing playfield tended to be stupid.

Justin was like a frightened animal, fidgeting, darting nervous looks in all directions. Most of Brian’s attempts to distract him had gone unfruitful, and he was getting tired of it. He’d known that Justin simply wasn’t ready for this. Babylon was too much. Brian himself had been scared shitless the first time he went.

Another guy was cruising Justin, and while Brian might have kind of enjoyed sending them off in the beginning, by now he was annoyed at having to rescue Justin from the big bad homos. Normally, Justin knew how to help himself, never shied away and was generally relaxed and confident. Brian hated that Justin felt so uncomfortable here.

“How about relaxing a bit?” he asked, leaning back against the bar next to Justin.

“I’m sorry, I’m just really not…”

“Jesus, Justin, you’re acting like all the men here will jump you. The meanings of the words _no_ and _fuck off_ are the same in Homo as they are in English, you know?”

“I’m being an idiot.”

Brian leaned in closer. “Dance with me.”

He saw Justin glance at the mass of half-naked bodies and bite his lip.

“Come on, princess.” Brian grabbed Justin by the hand and pulled him along. “Okay?” he asked, once he’d moved them to the center of the dance floor and had wrapped his arms around him.

Once again, Justin’s eyes started surveying left and right, mindful of the dancing men, obviously nervous about the physicality.

“Hey.” Justin didn’t react. “Hey,” Brian tried again with a little more insistence. Justin finally looked at him when Brian reached down for his hand. “You trust me?” Brian was surprised by how quickly the nod came. “Trust me to keep you safe then?” Only after they were out did Brian ponder the implication of his words. What the hell was he doing?

But Justin nodded, eyes big and full of… _something_.

Brian gulped down the unwelcome rush of responsibility and focused on the task at hand. He put an arm around Justin’s shoulders, the other around his waist and pulled him close, pressing two kisses to his neck. It smelled too good not to. “Just go with it,” he told, moving their bodies to the music.

Soon, Justin swayed and grinded without guidance and Brian celebrated by pressing himself closer and attacking Justin’s mouth. When Justin started kissing back, Brian felt it radiating to his knees. When he started pulling away, still nipping on that delicious upper lip, he felt Justin’s fingers tickling their way under his shirt. He enjoyed the warm shudder from the contact and grinned when Justin’s fingers moved more surely over his bare skin.

He wanted Justin. He had to have him. Again. After that first time and the stupidity that had followed, sex had been kind of off the table, it seemed. But now…

“I— I think I need some water.”

“Huh?” Why the fuck now? “C’mon,” Brian coerced, moving his hand to Justin’s ass. “We were just getting started.”

But Justin pushed. Not too much force, but still — he was pushing Brian away. “I’m sorry, but um.”

And if he would stop apologizing every fucking minute, Brian wouldn’t mind. “Yeah, whatever. Go find Ted and Emmett at the bar, I’ll be there in a minute.”

In Brian’s defense, he didn’t hang back to look actively for anything. These things just happened here. Hot guy, willing, with no emotional baggage or orientation issues, comes over, wants to dance, a couple of words are exchanged, hot and dirty, and a trip to the backroom is made.

Yes. It happened like it always did.

When Brian came back, he was informed that Justin had left. By Ted’s glare and Emmett’s snort he didn’t have to ask why.

Brian should have known that Justin would not be safe with him. People rarely were.

 

+

 

During the whole of the cab ride, he told himself that he would not start to cry. Not fucking again. Enough with the crying. His whole reality might have changed over just a few weeks, but that alone was no reason to turn into some weepy fairy.

Justin closed the door, hung up his jacket, and stood in front of the big mirror. There was still glitter on his arms, his skin was still damp, his right pocket still slightly tilted outwards from when he dug for those five bucks.

Justin felt disgusting.

He grabbed the rim of the much too tight shirt — what had he been thinking? — tore it up and over his head and threw it into the trash.

If this was supposed to be his new reality, he didn’t want it.

 

+

 

“Why is it that you always show up when I decide to walk to lunch and back every once in a blue fucking moon?”

Brian watched as Daphne took a deep breath. “Mr. Kinney,” she started.

“I think we’re past that, don’t you?”

“Alright then. _Brian_. What are you doing with him?”

“This is so very inappropriate, I don’t even know where to start.”

“As if you’d know the first thing about appropriate behavior.”

“Excuse me?” Brian stopped his walk right in the middle of the sidewalk.

“Taking him to a gay club and leaving him standing somewhere for a quick fuck? I thought you were going to help him feel comfortable. Treat him well. I thought you cared about h—”

“Look,” he interrupted. “I can’t be dealing with this shit. I’m not qualified. He… he ran off like the whole club was filled with homo-monsters that were after him.” Like Brian was one of them.

“He’s scared as hell, Brian. What would _you_ do?”

“What I did was, I came to terms with the fact that I’m a fag and went to get fucked and sealed the deal. You know, I would have been damned lucky if that had happened with someone who actually gave a fuck about me.” Justin was fucking privileged on that count.

“You mean…”

“Look, Daphne, I’m sure that, besides the fact that you’re annoying and love butting in on business that clearly isn’t yours, you’re a nice girl. But I am not, not in the slightest, interested in being some fucking kindergarten teacher for new fags. I play with the big boys.”

Daphne blinked at him, her eyebrows knitting.

“I can’t—”

But Daphne turned around and left with big steps, the heels of her boots clicking against the pavement.

Well, it’s not like he’d ever kept the fact of him being an asshole a secret, right?

 

+

 

Woody’s was crowded for a weekday. Brian was almost glad when he spotted Ted and Emmett’s heads because it meant that they had a table. Now Brian wouldn’t have to stand up while getting shitfaced.

A blond guy temporarily blocked his path and Brian was instantly reminded of his anger for Justin. That fucking kid made him want to throw things. And his territorial hag? What a nightmare this whole thing had become.

Well, it probably hadn’t been all bad. Parts hadn’t been so nightmarish. Not at all.

Justin might have been completely inexperienced, but Brian couldn’t remember the last time it had been this intense. Some time yesterday, with his _I’m-not-a-kindergarten-teacher speech_ still lingering in his mind, he’d even admitted it to himself. In the dark comfort of his bed, he’d admitted that he’d liked the thought of being Justin’s first everything.

If only Justin were fucking ready for it. If Justin were—… But he wasn’t. And Brian was not going to wait. Brian wasn’t ready for _that_. And he was not going to be the one to take the first leap. People like him never did.

No, these were exactly the thoughts he came here to forget. He didn’t want to think about the possibility of the proverbial ball lying in his field and Justin having taken his leap already.

Ironically enough, as it turned out, there was no bigger turnoff from getting drunk than watching Temmett’s embarrassing display of booze-induced insanity. They giggled and joked like high-school girls about the guys they used to have crushes on and made Brian get them equally ridiculous drinks.

Brian had only just finished his first beer and wondered for the tenth time why he didn’t just get up and leave, when Emmett decided to ring in a round of sharing profound observations.

“Isn’t it strange how one clings to some memories but at the same time, one forgets so many things almost instantly?”

“Like what?” Ted frowned.

“Like…” Emmett blinked. “I forgot! _See_?” That seemed to crack him up and after several seconds of contemplation, Ted cackled along.

“Jesus. I need to get out of here.”

“Where to, Bri?”

“Somewhere where he can get his dick sucked, of course!” Emmett provided.

“Ah, yes yes.” Ted clanked his glass against Brian’s abandoned beer bottle.

They got started on a different trail of wisdom and Brian watched in annoyed fascination. He should really fucking leave.

“Isn’t it strange,” Emmett started again, and Brian sighed. “How some people try so hard to remain the same, when change is actually exact-ly what they need?”

Ted frowned. “Like who?”

“Like… Brian!”

“Ah, yes, of course!”

They toasted again and Brian just stared, processing, and wondered if they even knew he was there. If they knew that it was his turn to leap.

 

+

 

The blotches seemed to be moving. The longer Brian looked at the big patches of grey and blue, the more he felt like they were slowly coming together, forming images.

He turned the other way as a streak of light shone through the window and cut through the room. It was gone again within seconds.

Justin’s fingers started moving on his stomach again, stroking the skin below his belly button. Brian hadn’t known before, but he loved being touched there. Justin had found the area an hour ago and Brian had been in a semi-aroused state since.

He felt so comfortable it was strange. Between the weird blotchy paintings adorning Justin’s walls, the smell of Justin’s hair and the fingers moving on the skin above his crotch, Brian thought he could lie here forev— …for quite some time.

Brian didn’t remember how he’d ended up here, just how Cynthia handed him the message she took from a Miss Chanders. _Come talk to him, at least, you dick. 34 Stanton Ave_ , it had read and his first instinct was to throw it away.

Apparently, he hadn’t, however and found it in his pocket while leaving Woody’s.

Their shared apartment reminded Brian of his own college pad, with the exception that it was three times as large and had pretty amazing art work all over it. When Daphne ushered him into Justin’s room, sleek and dark and totally non-collegy, Brian had felt out of place. But when he saw Justin sitting on his bed, sketching intently on the pad in his lap, he felt that jolt of awe again. He was almost getting used to it.

Justin looked up after a while, surprise and uneasiness written all over his face. Brian went to him, nevertheless.

When their lips slid together, Brian knew that he’d never kissed anyone the way he kissed Justin. He always thought that he’d worn out every kiss there was, every touch. But nothing about Justin was worn out or routine. Justin made everything feel new and pure.

And for the first time in forever, Brian thought that maybe, maybe he could be new, too.

Over an hour later, he was still marveling at those realizations while Justin’s fingers moved on the skin where he’d pushed Brian’s shirt up a bit.

“You know,” Justin started. “I’m not so naïve as to think that you’d instantly want a relationship with me or anything. I mean, I’m very well aware that I’m new at this and that I have very little experience and…” He trailed off and closed his eyes. “I just… I guess I just want to spend some time with you.”

Brian lay there, holding his breath.

“Is that so bad?” Justin asked, a quiet afterthought.

Brian closed his eyes and concentrated on Justin’s thumb rubbing and stroking in the crease between his hip and thigh.

No, that didn’t seem so bad.

Not so bad at all.


	13. Chapter 13

**Step 13: Woo Him** / _Stranger Than Fiction_

 

When Justin got into work the next morning, he was still wearing the stupid smile on his face.

Brian had left last night after spending two hours in Justin’s bed, just being there. He’d left with a kiss that tasted of promise. Justin swore to himself that he wouldn’t get his hopes up, but he couldn’t fucking help it. He was a glass-half-full guy. He was being honest when he said he didn’t expect a relationship, but he was relatively sure that he wanted Brian any way he could get him.

“So!” Jerry announced, startling Justin and making him slam the door.

“Hey,” Justin said and weeded through the mail, putting a couple of envelopes and pamphlets on Jerry’s desk. When he was done, he noticed Jerry grinning at him. “What?”

“So, not only are you finally embracing your gayness now, you are also embracing it with Brian Kinney?”

Justin froze in shock. “What?” he gasped. Jerry swiveled his computer screen around, so Justin could see. “You… you read my email?”

“Dude, it’s your business address, I must have clicked your folder, too. It was a happy accident!”

“You… I…” Justin couldn’t get the nerve together to actually read the email for himself. What if Brian was just brushing him off?

Jerry chuckled. “Relax. I’m quite impressed actually. Going big right from the start, I like it!”

“Oh my god, I hate you!” Justin turned and rushed towards his own desk. By the time he sat down, Jerry was waiting in the chair across from him.

“So, have you fucked him yet?”

“Jerry!”

“What?” Jerry asked, as if he’d just posed the most logical question.

“God, you’re so annoying.”

“So, are you, like, simply horny for him or do you actually like him?”

Justin rubbed his forehead. “I…”

“You…?”

Justin’s forehead made a loud thump against his desk. “I can’t believe I’m having this conversation.”

“What’s the big deal?”

“You can’t seriously be asking that,” Justin spoke into his mouse pad.

“Oh, please. So, you’re gay. So, you dig Mr. Kinnetik. And he digs you! What’s the problem?”

Justin’s head shot up. “Okay, first, don’t call him that. Second, you have just learned that your best friend is a fag. Shouldn’t you be weirded out by that or something?” Justin waved his hands for emphasis. “And third, I don’t even know if he likes me. He’s just…”

“Yeah, you should read your email.”

“Oh, should I, yes?” Justin scoffed, all sarcasm and frustration.

Jerry smiled, nice and genuine for once, and got up. Justin stared after him.

Five minutes later, he was still staring at their ugly carpet, afraid to check his email, afraid to do anything at all.

“Read your email, loverboy!” Jerry sung from the other end of the room.

“Fuck you!”

A laugh. “Oh, you wish.”

 

+

 

 _ **From:** Brian.Kinney@kinnetik.com  
 **To:** JTaylor@bastartdize.com_

 _So, let’s do something lame. Like go see a movie and eat. Not necessarily in that order._

 _Yes?_

 

+

 

They really didn’t do it in that order.

Brian wasn’t sure why he was paying for Italian food when he got stuffed to the hilt with it once a week for free, but who’s complaining. The restaurant was actually kind of nice. A little too dingy for his taste, but the food and service were pretty good. Well, appropriate, given the pricing.

He watched Justin polish the last drop of sauce off his plate with garlic bread and smiled.

Justin caught him looking and swallowed. “I’m sorry, this pesto is just so good.”

“I’m sure it is. So, you were saying that you gave up painting.”

Justin took a sip from his wine. “Well, I didn’t give it up completely, not initially, at least, but as a career choice. You, um, you know about my mom… Things started getting worse and money was needed.” He shrugged.

Brian thought about how someone could just shrug his future, his passion, away. Then again, he wouldn’t understand — his own professional passion had always been of a profitable kind, fortunately.

“How did she get worse? I mean…”

“Well, it started out with her distrusting people, accusing random people of somehow plotting against her. That was the mild stage, where we initially started being aware of the problem. It progressed to her thinking similarly of all people, even the ones closest to her.” Justin shook his head in remembrance. “We had to assure her constantly, show her that we’re the _good ones_.” Justin made air quotes. “But the more we tried, the less she believed. I don’t know why, but I’m actually the last person she allows in, even if just temporarily. She hasn’t spoken to my sister in… I don’t even know how long.” Justin glanced up from the table and cleared his throat. “Anyway, then came the stage where she started flat-out imagining things, hearing things, to a point where she couldn’t continue living alone.”

“And your father? Didn’t he help?”

“They got a divorce a couple of years prior to that and he kind of didn’t want anything more to do with us. Me and my mom, that is. He did get custody for my sister, however, when things got worse with the sickness and Molly was still underage. Judging by what I know, he’s been a good father to her.”

Brian watched the fine line that had formed on Justin’s forehead and wondered what the hell he was doing asking all these questions. Shitty family situations? As if he needed to hear about those. Still, he kind of wanted to hear about Justin’s… well, _everything_. “So you went and focused on digital design work.”

Justin shifted in his seat and Brian didn’t know what to make of it. Was he fucking up?

“I’m sorry, Brian, I just…” Justin’s fingers played with the napkin.

“What, is this uncomfortable?”

“No, actually. It’s just… I feel like I’ve been giving away so much of myself, you know? You know so much about me already and—”

“That’s not true.” There was a lot more he’d like to know. He still didn’t know how Justin drank his coffee, for example.

“No, I mean, I have this whole mess of myself lying open in front of you, right? And I feel like there’s nothing really personal about you that I know, so this whole thing feels kind of lopsided.”

Brian thought about that. He didn’t want Justin to feel lopsided. “Alright. Let’s go then.” He turned to signal the waiter.

“Brian, what…? I thought…”

“I’m taking you somewhere,” Brian explained as he handed over his credit card. He was gonna do this before he thought better of it.

“Somewhere that’s not the movies?”

“Somewhere that’s not the movies.”

 

+

 

“Dadadada!”

No, definitely not the movies. Kind of fictional anyway, Justin found.

“Brian! I thought you were going to pick him up on Saturday.”

“I am,” Brian explained, lifting the kid up in his arms. “I’m just stopping by for a quick visit.”

“Gus, meet Justin.”

Gus hid his face in Brian’s neck but held out his hand.

Justin cleared his head from the shock and smiled while shaking the little hand. “Nice to meet you, Gus.”

“Since when are you so shy?” Brian asked his son, who drew his hand back in and smushed his face harder into Brian’s neck.

“Um, Brian?” Lindsay stood there, looking helpless.

“Lindsay, this is Justin. I just wanted him to meet Gus.”

“Hi.” Justin waved while Lindsay stared.

 

+

 

Back in the car, Brian tried to prepare himself for the questioning. Of course Justin would want to know how the hell he came to have a kid. Maybe revealing Gus wasn’t the best move, after all. Maybe he’d freaked him out.

When after two full minutes of driving (Brian checked back with the dashboard clock), Justin still hadn’t said anything, Brian didn’t know what to do. Or if he should even continue driving into the direction of the loft. “So…”

“Thank you,” was all Justin said. He reached over and took Brian’s hand in his.

Brian managed to drive the rest of the way without ever shifting gears.

 

+

 

Justin had gotten two blowjobs in his life. And that was counted generously.

He remembered Julia from _Introduction to Ancient Philosophy_ on her knees in front of him at that stupid frat party. How she held his dick in both hands and just licked at the tip a couple of times like he was some kind of lollipop. And a not particularly tasty one, judging by her face.

The class was pretty cool, though. Figures that it was the electives that were the most fun.

Oh, and April, that one time on the disgusting rug, of course. Though he doubted that giving his cock one lick and then randomly diving down once, complete with gagging, counted for full either.

All in all, Justin figured that it couldn’t possibly end in disappointment when Brian mumbled, “I’m gonna suck your dick.”

Justin almost came right then.

“Okay?” Brian’s voice was slightly muffled and Justin could feel his lips and breath against his stomach.

Brain feeling of mushy consistency, Justin barely managed a nod. He thought he should prepare in some way, but it was too late — Brian already started pressing his lips to Justin’s filling cock. It twitched helplessly while the warm mouth moved up and down its length, avoiding the tip, but instead moving down to suck at heavy balls. When Brian finally took Justin in his mouth, sliding down as far as possible, Justin was already gone. Two more up and downs, two flicks of tongue against the tip and Justin was coming into Brian’s mouth, shocked and grateful.

Brian was still sucking the last bit of come from his cock when Justin’s brain rattled into gear again.

Holy shit, he’d just been blown. Blown for real. By a guy.

He recognized the parting kisses to his stomach and felt the nervousness prickle through his body. Brian moved up to face level and Justin… Justin had to look away.

“Hey.”

Justin pressed his eyes closed in defiance. He had already let Brian fuck him once, so why was he freaking out over a blowjob? He just… he couldn’t look at Brian right now. Not after he’d—

“Justin.”

Holding his breath, he finally turned to look. He instantly forgot his embarrassment over the shiny red lips, the brown hair that stood in a deliciously tousled way. Did he do that? He didn’t remember. God, Brian was fucking perfect. Justin had to kiss him. He lifted his head a bit, licked at the flushed lips, tasting remnants of himself, but mostly tasting Brian’s perfection.

Soon Justin was moaning into Brian’s mouth again and pressing up, pressing closer. He let his hands wander up and down Brian’s back, brought Brian’s hips further down against him. He stopped when he felt Brian’s dick, hard and full, against his thigh.

Brian had gotten hard because of him, from sucking him. Justin felt dizzy at the thought.

It must have been that dizziness that caused him to reach down for Brian’s cock without thinking. Brian, surprise lightly breaking up his breathing, turned on his side a bit to give Justin room and let his forehead fall to Justin’s shoulder. Justin loved the feeling of Brian’s moans vibrating against his skin.

Justin wanted to give Brian as much pleasure as he’d received. He wanted to show him that he could. “Brian,” he said, squeezing the shaft.

“Yeah,” came the huff.

“I want to try… _that_.”

“What?” Brian mumbled into Justin’s shoulder.

Justin couldn’t say it. Instead, he rolled on top of Brian and quickly slid down his body. He kissed beside a pink nipple, on rippling abs, at his favorite expanse of skin below belly button, and was then staring at Brian’s dick.

“Justin,” Brian gasped, struggling to lift up a bit.

But Justin didn’t look up at him. He continued to stare. All he had to do was open his mouth and… fuck. He couldn’t.

Brian’s fingers curling around his hand brought Justin out of his frozen shock. “Come up here.”

“I— I’m sorry, I…”

“Shut up and come here,” Brian said again, tugging on Justin’s hand.

Embarrassment and a feeling of failure clouded Justin’s thinking and again he didn’t know where to look to avoid Brian’s eyes. But then Brian kissed him again, long and deep and _not disappointed_ , and slowly, Justin relaxed.

Later, there was no room for embarrassment when he pulled and scratched, and asked Brian for _more_ and _deeper_.

 

+

 

Brian watched as Justin’s orgasm played out under him. The grunts and moans that were full of unexpected pleasure, the fluttering eyelids, the bowing of his body. He pressed impossibly deeper and enjoyed the rippling of the muscles surrounding his dick.

Justin was completely pure. Brian ceased all movement and just stared.

He made a decision then. He had to make Justin come again before he himself would let go. He _needed_ to see Justin come again.

Beads of sweat had accumulated in the hollow of Justin’s throat and Brian bent down to lick them up. When he couldn’t tear himself away from Justin’s neck, he let his body drop down. He bit his lips and closed his eyes while Justin’s ass still pulsed weakly around him.

When Justin opened his eyes, Brian searched them and found nothing he didn’t like. Justin pressed two soft kisses to his neck, making Brian shiver. Justin smiled and did it again. When the lips remained in a spot, softly sucking at the skin, Brian groaned and felt a new flash of arousal shoot into him. He started to move again.

Justin gasped and stared at him, shocked, while Brian rocked his hips, slowly, not too deep. He bent down and sucked on Justin’s lower lip, diving behind it with his tongue. Hearing Justin’s low moan and feeling his hands move to his ass turned him on so much, he had to pick up his pace.

“Ah, fuck... _wait_!”

It was too early. Justin was still too sensitive, Brian knew it. But he wanted the pure need. He wanted Justin to feel the burn, the struggle of his body trying to gear up again. Brian wanted all of it to be for him, because of him. Justin made him greedy.

So he continued to nudge at Justin’s prostate and kissed and licked the hitched gasps from his mouth. His upper body was still pressed to Justin’s while his hips pressed into his ass. His own body was burning, hurting, with delaying the release, when losing himself in Justin was so close.

Only with great effort did he pull away, push his chest up, to grab between them. Justin’s cock was filling quickly, his balls felt smooth and heavy in Brian’s palm. Justin was ready again.

“No, please,” Justin moaned, his hand reaching up. “Come back down here.”

Something inside Brian snapped loose and he dropped down again, heavy and grateful. The friction was becoming blinding and Brian desperate in the way he rutted against Justin. Sliding his fingers into blond hair he kissed him, deep, essential and without anything to compare.

Justin held on and cried Brian’s name when he came.

Brian gave up, shuddered, and felt the sound etch into his brain.


	14. Chapter 14

**Step 14: Be There** / _Different [adjective; differing from all others; unusual]_

 

Cheese and cucumber sandwiches was what he missed the most. He didn’t eat them anymore because they belonged in a different time. They belonged back then, when he still belonged.

They used to go fishing, dad and him. It was silly really, and Justin always sucked at it, but it’s those kinds of things you can’t help but keep replaying in your head later. Just like you mythologize cheese and cucumber sandwiches into gourmet food.

As Justin grew older, their fishing trips thinned out. Mom noticed too, but she never said anything. Justin didn’t miss the fishing so much and with his naivety still fully intact, he figured that they’d always have their sandwich bond.

But dad grew distant.

Justin wanted to draw, to paint, loved watching old Cary Grant movies with mom.

Dad didn’t understand. “You’re just… _different_ ,” he’d said one day, long after he’d stopped making sandwiches with Justin. He closed his eyes at Justin and turned back to the football game on TV.

None of his dictionaries or encyclopedias listed _different_ as meaning something bad. But even at twelve Justin knew it did all the same.

 

+

 

Justin woke up with a dry mouth. He took a second to survey his surroundings, then got up and headed for the kitchen. Only when he opened the bottle of water did he become aware of his nudity. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept naked.

Slowly, he padded back up into the bedroom. Brian had moved a bit and was now lying on his back, one arm stretched out across the bed, the duvet covering him from the hips down.

Justin took a deep breath and gave himself a minute to just stare.

He carefully slid back into the bed and studied Brian’s body some more. The slight frown he wore, the tiny cracks in his lips, dried out from hours of disuse, the long arms and beautiful hands and fingers. Just a few stray hairs adorned his chest – they had tickled. Justin’s eyes fixed onto the defined line of loin running downwards, the one that soon disappeared beneath the blanket. Justin bit his lip and leaned forward, tugging on the duvet. The muscled line finished in Brian’s crotch, in the full patch of hair. One more tug and Justin revealed Brian’s half hard cock resting against his thigh. Justin was transfixed with how it lay there, still and gorgeous, lightly curved but perfect.

He bent down and took a sniff. He found he liked Brian’s smell.

Carefully he lay down between Brian’s legs. He started at the patch of skin he’d come to love — the stretch from belly button to where pubic hair began that was divided by a thin trail of hair. He kissed the skin and inhaled deeply, feeling his own cock twitch.

Without much thinking, he moved down and pressed his lips to Brian’s dick. His tongue poked out and trailed up the shaft slowly, then around the head. He felt the change of texture against his lips as Brian filled out.

Justin still wanted more. He heard Brian groan, probably awake now, and lowered his mouth around him. As he moved up again, his tongue apparently found a good spot on the underside and Brian started panting. With a timid pop he released the now slick dick from his mouth.

“Fuck, Justin.”

Justin blinked. Hearing his name made it all real again. He needed something to hold on to, something to secure him, something—

But then Brian’s fingers were there, threading through his against his heaving chest, and it was alright again.

Justin pressed another kiss to Brian’s dick and then moved down, remembering how good it had been when Brian licked his balls. The rough texture was a bit strange against his tongue at first, but when he sucked the skin, wetting it, it felt absolutely right. Brian’s moans and gasps turned him on so much.

“Justin, I’m… Shit, I’m gonna come.”

Deciding quickly, Justin took Brian’s cock in his mouth and sucked greedily. The first spurt surprised him and he moved back up a little. He saw Brian’s abdominal muscles ripple and stroked his palm over the twitching skin. Brian glistened and moved like the god that he was and Justin drank of him, of his invincibility.

The last bit of come caught on his cheek when Brian’s cock slipped from his mouth, but Justin was too mesmerized to care.

When Brian settled down again, groaning for one final time, Justin snapped out of his trance as well. Suddenly aware of his state, he felt embarrassment flush his skin. He moved to wipe his cheek clean.

“Stop.” Brian grabbed Justin’s hand.

Justin waited and let himself be pulled up to face level.

“Don’t.”

Embarrassment and confusion battling in his head now, Justin didn’t know what Brian wanted him to do. So he waited. Waited as Brian’s fingers tickled up the small of his back. Was waiting still when Brian lifted his head and licked the come from Justin’s cheek.

Justin was shocked, but felt Brian’s tongue wash the guilt away.

Brian pressed another little kiss to the area before giving him a quick smile. When he moved in again to kiss him on the lips, Justin noticed a peculiar flutter in his chest.

It felt good.

 

+

 

“Brian, I have Mr. Denning on hold for you.”

Brian groaned. “What does he want _now_?”

“He wouldn’t say.”

“Great. Put him through.” Brian rubbed his forehead and took a deep breath before he picked up. “Mr. Denning, what can I do for you?”

The guy rattled down a monologue on his newest philosophical business outlook and Brian listened, said _“Interesting”_ at the right moments and bided his time.

When the conversation veered towards Denning’s various country estates, Brian took care to mention how very busy they were. The bad feeling didn’t go away, however, and soon enough, Brian had to console the man with, “I’m afraid I’m busy that weekend.”

It was true. He just had to get himself some plans. If Justin would want to do something? Brian didn’t even care what that something might be. Sure, his dick in Justin’s perfect ass would be pretty great. Or maybe even Justin’s sleep drool on his shoulder.

Shit, Denning was still talking. Brian quickly stitched the pieces of information together and was soon sure to have figured out where this was going. Just like expected, Denning made the quick transformation into a douche.

Brian cleared his throat. “What do you mean, you’re not sure? Till three minutes ago you were _perfectly_ sure that Kinnetik is the right choice for you.” Brian bit his lip and waited for the blood to draw up while he listened to Denning.

Did he really _need_ that client? Not really. Did he really _want_ him? Not really. _Integrity_ was the word that washed up in his mind.

“Mr. Denning, I’m going to be blunt with you. I think that your business could profit significantly from your involvement with Kinnetik and I think you know it, too. So, if you’re still going to make our working together dependent on whether or not I choose to play golf with you and your swarm of spineless drones, it will be your loss, not Kinnetik’s. Let me know how you decide. Have a good day.”

Brian half-flung then nudged the receiver into its cradle and eyed it wearily. Did he really just do that?

Yes he did. And he had to admit, he felt fucking fabulous.

 

+

 

Justin didn’t expect it to hurt this much. Not after everything that they’d been through already.

He was still shaking by the time Jerry loaded him into the car and drove him home.

“You’re going to take a couple of days off.”

“I… I have to… that thing for…”

“That was not a question, Justin.”

The weight of something indescribably heavy and dark threw Justin off balance as he toddled up the staircase. He barely registered his friend walking behind him or noticed the steadying touch on his back and was a bit startled by the sound of Jerry’s voice as they entered the apartment.

Daphne’s hug right inside the door shredded him to pieces. It made the whole thing come full circle.

Jerry made tea that they didn’t drink, Daphne put out some double choc cookies that no one touched, and together the three of them sat and stared at the snacks.

There really wasn’t anything to be said.

How could it have come to this? How did this happen? How had his world been alright, better than alright, just this morning? How was he supposed to live with the history made today, with the guilt weighing him down? How could anything ever be good again?

Justin hated not having any answers. He risked a look at both Daphne and Jerry and wondered if they were drowning in questions too as they sat by his side silently.

When the ticking noise of the little clock on the wall became almost unbearable, Daphne finally found some words. “I know this might sound insensitive and everything, but….”

Justin turned to look at her. Her eyes were big and shiny.

“Justin, _you’re free_.”

He was stunned for a moment, then looked at Jerry. He saw surprise in his eyes. And then, yeah, agreement.

But Justin didn’t feel free. Not free at all.

 

+

 

24 hours later, he was resting his forehead against the cool metal door and couldn’t remember whether he’d knocked or not.

Thankfully, the door was opened, so he figured he had.

“Shit, what happened to you?”

Justin didn’t understand why the door frame had to wobble now. “I… I had a drink.” The warm hand on his back anchored him and the hallway finally stopped moving.

“Just one, huh?”

“Yeah. Just one.” Justin stumbled into the loft. “And then another one. And one more. And so on. But just one.”

He felt some pressure on his shoulders and promptly landed on the sofa.

“What the fuck is going on, Justin?”

He didn’t know. Except that he did. It just was hard to grasp. He stared straight ahead at the wall, feeling his eyes go dry from not blinking. “My… my mom died.” Justin blinked, finally, and turned back to Brian. “My mom died,” he said again because it was true. “Sh— she killed herself. With the… with the linen… the ceiling, she—” Justin wiped his eyes. “I’m sorry. You were probably busy and all, and…” He struggled to get up, but was pulled down again.

“Come here.”

Justin followed the tug and ended up on his side, Brian pressed against his back, arms around him. And then he just cried. Cried into Brian’s white upholstery, thick, silent tears. Cried until he didn’t have anything left.

“I know it’s stupid,” he started after a while. “But I keep thinking that everything is partly my fault,” he said into the silence. “That… that if my father hadn’t left, it never would’ve gotten so far. And that my father wouldn’t have left if I— …”

“What?”

“If… If I hadn’t been so… different.”

“That’s total bullshit and you know it.”

Justin bit his lip. He did know, in theory.

Brian kissed Justin’s neck and his words didn’t feel so harsh anymore.

“Yeah, you’re _different_.” Justin felt Brian mumble the words into his neck and wondered if he just imagined the hitch in his breathing. “You’re fucking _special_ , alright?”

Justin pressed his eyes closed and wished that it was true.

When Brian went into him later, slow and amazing, Justin felt something pretty special.

And after, when he asked Brian, “Stay with me”, Brian pressed even closer, and did.

That night, Justin Taylor, who sucked at fishing and didn’t like football, learned that _different_ might not be the worst thing, after all.


	15. Chapter 15

**Step 15a: Duck Your Head** / _Prime Numbers_

 

Brian had felt a shift that one night and it had made him nervous.

Avoiding Justin and their post-shift dynamic had seemed like a clever tactic. It had worked for the past three days. On day four, however, any tactic was destroyed by the little words _4:30 pm - Justin / re: Denning_ flashing in blue on Brian’s electronic schedule.

Justin had felt a certain way to him that night and Brian knew he’d never forget it. He had given away things that he’d meant to keep to himself. It had been too much. The shift had been there and now Brian had to find back into his balance.

The past few days, Brian had tried not to think about Justin having to sort through the mess his mother had left. It wasn’t like it was any of Brian’s business.

When Justin did come in at 4:25, he looked okay. Brian felt relief consume him and he didn’t think further than that when he leaned forward as Justin neared the desk. His lips felt soft and warm, like they always did.

“Hey,” Justin said and Brian tried not to notice the surprised smile on his face.

Instead, he jumped right into background color, font families and ratio. As always, Justin knew how to keep up, bring input to the table and engage in banter that could’ve fooled anyone into believing that he did not have an appointment with a tombstone mason in an hour. Brian got that bit of information from Ted earlier, wholly unprompted, of course.

“So, do you wanna get something to eat later tonight?” Justin asked.

Brian kind of did. But it wasn’t right. He remembered holding Justin close, fucking telling him he was special, stroking his skin long after he’d fallen asleep. No, it was the wrong image. “I have plans,” he said.

“Oh, alright. Then, I was thinking, on Saturday I could—”

“Justin, we’re not a freaking couple, okay?” Brian suddenly felt angry with the world. With the world that did not move accordingly to his pace and that had constructed his balance of such frail constitution.

“I know that.”

The change of tone gave Brian goose bumps. “Good. Just wanted to make that clear.” Being the idiot that he sometimes was, Brian added, “Another lesson on your path to true fagdom: We fuck and we suck. Relationship bullshit should be reserved for the breeders.”

Justin backed away. It was only an inch, maybe two, but Brian noticed. He swallowed what tasted like regret and watched Justin gather himself.

“And what if I want to have a relationship?”

Brian scoffed, the familiar territory itching in his fingers. “I suggest getting yourself an account on lonelyqueers dot com then.” The last words tasted toxic on Brian’s tongue and he looked at Justin for confirmation.

Yes, the poisoning was there.

“You’re telling me that romance and relationships are not for gays. That, being a fag now myself, I can’t have that.”

“Well,—”

“Or are you telling me that I can’t have that _with you_?”

 _Both_ , Brian thought. Brian was meant to be single, to take only, to live the advantages of the good fag life and nothing more. Brian couldn’t be in a couple. He didn’t work with anyone but himself. He was a fucking prime number.

Relationship? No, Brian didn’t want that.

When he turned back around, Justin was watching him, weirdly concentrated and intense. Obviously having come to a decision, his features softened again. “Well,” he announced. “I suppose I’ll have to find someone whom I can have that with, then.”

Brian blinked furiously.

Justin got up and started gathering his things. “We’re all done with the boards, right?” he asked, offhandedly. At Brian’s nod he gave a strained smile. “Don’t get me wrong. I don’t mean this to come out like an ultimatum or anything like that, but um,” A rebellious folder refused to ease into the satchel. “I think… I think, what I need right now, is to find someone who can at least imagine something similar to a relationship. Someone else, then.”

Brian wordlessly accepted the peck on the cheek, watched Justin leave and, although he couldn’t explain it, felt cheated by the universe.

 _Someone else, then?_

Brian kind of didn’t want that either.

 

+

 

Justin had bought them in every color he could find. One by one he let the daisies sail down onto the coffin, mixing with the soil the priest had let down.

When the last flower had landed, Justin forced himself away. He knew that he wouldn’t want to remain. He turned around swiftly, hearing the gravel crunch beneath his shoes as he walked.

It was time. Time to start a new life chapter, with himself as the uncontested protagonist.

And if Brian didn’t want any part in it, then so be it.

 

+

 

For a long time Brian had thought about whether to come or stay away.

Leaning against the side of his car, he inhaled the expensive smoke. The gray fog filtered in front of his eyes, the faint menthol taste aiding the recreation of the memory.

<<

Brian was done in the bathroom. Freshly showered and teeth-brushed, he leaned against the door frame. Justin was still asleep.

Waking up next to him wasn’t so scary the second time around, but it still felt strange. Justin, all blond-white, stood out against the dark bedding, and Brian wondered if that should be an indication for something. He smiled, remembering that he’d always appreciated contrast. Justin looked warm and soft and Brian decided that he would be late to the office.

Shoulder, back, all felt even softer than they had looked. Brian found the slightly reddened spot where his teeth had pressed down the night before and he ran his lips over it. Soon Justin began to stir and turn and Brian wished he had more time. But when he found Justin smiling up at him, sleepy-eyed and sated, Brian didn’t mind so much anymore.

The sheets were tangled around Justin’s middle when Brian pressed his body down on his. He licked Justin’s mouth, sharing his minty breath between them. Justin moaned and arched up and Brian felt a shiver run down his spine, all the way down into his toes. He moved on to the neck and jaw he couldn’t stop nibbling on. He would have to add a new fetish to his list.

Brian needed to decide what he wanted to do, but Justin’s smell made him dizzy. Or maybe it was simply the early hour. Putting the decision off to later, he started moving, pressing his hips into Justin’s. The responding whimper made him harder, needier, and push into Justin’s linen-covered crotch harder. He should’ve gotten rid of the cloth, have him naked, but that idea didn’t correspond so well with his thoughts of _now_ and _good_.

He couldn’t remember the last time he was desperate enough to actually dry-hump someone. If it weren’t for the otherworldly delicious friction and Justin’s hot breath in his mouth, Brian might’ve actually felt ridiculous.

But it was fucking good. It seemed, everything with Justin was.

>>

Brian watched as Justin walked down the bendy path, shoulders squared.

Justin seemed to hesitate for a quick second when he saw him but continued his brisk walk. He looked older, taller, when he came to stand in front of Brian.

“What are you doing here?”

Brian dropped his cigarette to the ground. “I thought that you would hate this. And that you would want to get away from the others as soon as possible.”

“You would be right.”

Justin had told him one night how much he used to enjoy just driving around in a car. Just driving, till coming by a spot that for whatever reason compelled him to stop and get out. He’d said he’d had some of the best realizations come to him during those expeditions. Reason and hope had a way of snapping back into place if you just outdrove them for a moment.

“I thought we could go for a drive,” Brian proposed and had to wait endless moments for Justin’s reaction.

 

+

 

They ended up stopping on some abandoned factory site half an hour outside the city. They were lying on the hood of the car, drinking cheap wine they bought at the last gas station they’d passed. Brian wondered if he could get a taxi to drive out here if he drank any more. He didn’t even know if his cell phone got a signal.

“You don’t see the stars this clearly in the city.”

Brian turned to lie fully on his back again. His back would kill him in the morning. “No, you don’t.”

“It’s fucking beautiful out here.”

Looking around, taking in desolate walls and cracked parking lots, Brian wondered how much Justin’d had to drink.

“Thanks.”

Brian wasn’t going to react to that. He closed his eyes and concentrated. It was weird not having any background noise at all.

“You know what most of the people at the funeral were thinking?”

“What?”

“They were thinking: _What a tragedy. Poor Justin. But well, he must feel a bit relieved now._ ” Brian heard him take another swig from the bottle. “And you want to know the worst part?”

No, he didn’t. Brian kept silent again. He had nothing to offer here. But then Justin rolled to his side, waiting for Brian to turn to him.

After long moments, Brian relented. “What’s the worst part?”

“That it’s true,” Justin whispered and Brian swore he could see something break inside his eyes.

Brian had no idea what type of glue one needed to fix this, but when he reached out and Justin buried his head in his chest, he figured he wasn’t doing the worst job.

It was much later when Justin started talking again. “You know, you’re actually pretty good at this.”

Brian eyed their surroundings again. “Reenacting the beginning of every teenage horror flick?”

Justin huffed a laugh and lightly shook his head into Brian’s jacket. “And you wouldn’t suck at the relationship part either”

Brian attributed his lack of initial response to the five-bucks alcohol in his system. These were the kinds of conversations he usually tried to avoid. It came out without any steam when he finally said, “I told you about this, Justin. You know who I am.”

“I guess I do.” Justin yawned and snuggled deeper into Brian. “I’ve changed so much in the past couple of weeks. My life has practically jumped a completely different train. And albeit not quite as elegantly as I would’ve wished, still, I’m dealing with it. Why can’t you stretch your rules a little?”

Brian wanted to laugh. Justin didn’t know what he was talking about. He had no idea how much Brian had bent his rules already. They were stretched so widely, in fact, they were going to snap at any second. Brian was sure of it. Especially now, in this moment.

He ducked into Justin’s neck and waited for the blow of the snap. Right to the head.

But instead of the blow there were Justin’s lips on his neck, and as he pulled back a little, on the underside of his chin.

With Justin held close, Brian rolled back to stare up into the night sky and wondered.

If Justin was cushioning the crack?


	16. Chapter 16

**Step 15b: Collect Your Winnings** / _Facebook Ever After_

 

He hated to think like one of those pod people, but Brian was honestly baffled by how quickly Gus was growing.

Over a box of jelly-filled donuts that were supposed to sate some lesbian craving, Lindsay kept handing over photos of moments Brian felt had happened a couple of days ago. That picture of Gus on the pandemonium of a kiddie train? Didn’t he just fork over five bucks for that ride last week?

“It was last March”, Lindsay told him.

Again Brian turned to look at Gus, sitting on the floor and highly concentrated on turning a Transformer back into car shape, and confirmed that yes, indeed, it must’ve been a while ago.

“So, where’s your dragon, anyway?”

“Mmmorkin late,” Lindsay mumbled through yet another mouthful of sticky donut.

Brian found her a bit scary at the moment.

“Oh, I kept meaning to ask you. What’s up with you and that blond kid?”

For all the WASP brainwashing Lindsay must’ve endured, she sure had little sense for subtlety these days. Not that Brian minded. Although, “Blond kid?” he asked. He didn’t like the sound of that.

“The guy you brought here the other night. Jesse?”

“Justin.”

“Right. So?”

“So, what?”

“Don’t play dumb, Brian. You have this aura of _different_ surrounding you and I know it must have something to do with that guy.”

 _“Justin._ ” Couldn’t she remember one freaking name? Brian wasn’t too comfortable with the way Lindsay stared at him and tried to ignore her. “What’cha got there, Gus?”

His son was unwilling to help out, obviously, and ignored him in favor of the Transformer thing.

“You really like this guy, don’t you?”

Strangely enough it was the shocked look on her face that pissed Brian off most about this moment.

“You…” Lindsay scooted forward to the edge of the couch. “Are you two, _something_ , I mean…?”

“We’re not nothing, but we’re also not _something_. Does that answer your question?”

“And, do you _want_ it to be _something_?”

Brian sighed and flopped back in the chair. He was so absolutely not in the mood for this. And Lindsay would make it into an interrogation. She did that. And she didn’t let anything go either.

It was the only reasonable thing really to save himself some nerves and tell her what’s what. “Look, it doesn’t matter anyway, because it wouldn’t work. I’m not compatible to such a degree with another person.” Fucking prime numbers never were. “Can we leave it at that?”

They couldn’t, obviously. The wheels in Lindsay’s head were turning, he saw it in her face.

“You’re overanalyzing.”

“The fuck?” If she wanted to insult him, she had better do it right.

“Language,” Lindsay chastised and Brian wanted to scream. “You know,” she continued, ignoring Brian’s groan. “It’s not like you have to have every little thing figured out if you know the basics of what you want, right? A relationship isn’t static.”

“ _What_?” Brian was annoyed. It was the sugar talking.

“It doesn’t have to be this huge perfect thing from the start, Brian. When you know that you want something, you can always care for the details as you go along. You work on the compatibility.”

“Whatever, Linz. I’m going home.” With a quick kiss to Sonnyboy’s forehead and a grab into the donut box, he headed out.

Brian was surprised when he turned into his street. He had no idea how he got there, and without getting into any accidents on top of that. Traffic had been the last thing on his mind.

Fucking Lindsay and her brainwashing ways.

 

+

 

The hats had been an endless source of embarrassment. Especially in his early teenage years Justin thought them to be one of the worst things. They were colorful, often big, and screamed _tourist_. As if the sight of four people with matching yellow hair and white, sun burnt skin, each with a camera around their neck, wasn’t enough to identify them.

Yet, mom continued to add to her weird hat fetish and bought at least one of them on every family vacation. Sure, a hat might have a couple of practical qualities but she clearly wore them to torture her teenage son.

Sorting through them now, one hat more colorful and ridiculous than the last, Justin had to laugh through the tears. He quickly wiped his eyes and nose when he heard Daphne call for him from around the corner.

“Justin? What about the cook books?” She stood before him, looking down into the box she was holding.

After years of paying for the rented storage, he was finally cleaning it out. They were all her things. All stuff he took from the apartment before it was sold. He’d sold off the bulkier furniture but didn’t feel entitled to give away any remotely personal things.

Now was different though. Now mom would definitely not come back.

“Goodwill,” Justin said, for the hundredth time that day.

“You sure? Maybe we could—”

“I’m sure.”

“Okay.”

Justin nodded to himself and closed the hat box. He sealed it with duck tape and labeled it _Goodwill_ in thick black letters.

 

+

 

Justin was snipping paper clips around his desk while he waited for Photoshop to reload after its most recent crash. He really should have that computer wiz guy come in, but he kind of didn’t feel like forking over 400 bucks for a half-hour job during which the guy did not much more than unplug and replug and take apart a couple of things and made Justin and Jerry feel like complete idiots.

He pushed up from his chair a bit and peered over at Jerry who seemed hard at work. Since when was Jerry the focused one? Clearly he was—

“So, this is where the magic happens!”

Justin whirled around, sending his chair rolling and hitting the big file container. He was still clutching the side of the container when a brown lunch bag was unceremoniously dropped on his desk.

“Good afternoon?” came the chuckle.

“Ass.” Justin had to laugh. “What are you doing here?”

“I was in the area.”

“Uh-huh. What’s that?” Justin pointed at the bag.

“Food. Something more nutritious than pizza, gummi junk and Red Bull.”

“Red Bull has like, a crapload of vitamins!” Jerry interjected before Justin could say anything.

Justin fired a paper clip into his general direction before and chuckled when Jerry acted as if the clip had wounded him deadly. Justin got up and raised an amused brow. “You’re bringing me lunch, Mr. Kinney?”

“Hell no, I’m not.”

“Well, it sure looks like you did.” Justin grinned. And here he’d thought that the day was for shit. He leaned against his desk, standing close to Brian. He could smell the expensive cologne from the proximity.

“I just happened to be in the neighborhood and thought of stopping by to take another look at the boards you promised me.”

“Right.” The boards had already been finalized and sent off to the printer days ago. They both knew that.

Brian continued, “And it just so happened that I got hungry on the way over, got some lunch, and figured, for my good deed of the day, I’d do something about that early diabetes-related death you have coming.”

Justin threw his head back and laughed. “You’re a freak.” He reached out and grabbed onto Brian’s suit collar.

“Yeah, so!” Jerry announced and got up. “I’m gonna go get some lunch since, you know, not all of us get theirs delivered.”

“How very considerate,” Brian mocked, once the door fell shut behind Jerry.

“He can be. On rare occasions.” He loved Jerry to death, but sometimes Justin wondered if his friend had evolved at all from the college freshman who sold stretched pot out of his dorm room and laughed at fart jokes.

Justin noticed the shift in Brian’s expression.

“How did it go at the storage unit yesterday?”

A warm feeling spread in Justin’s chest. Not at the memory, but at Brian’s question, at his careful tone. At the fact that he brought him lunch and checked up on him. “It was alright. I really got rid of most things, we only took one box back to the apartment.” He was glad Daphne had been there.

“Good.”

“Also,” Justin took a deep breath. “I got started on a painting.”

“You did?” Brian leaned forward and placed his hand atop Justin’s on the desk.

“Yeah.” Justin beamed. “It’s nothing too fancy, but it is a start. And it felt great.” It felt right and full of possibilities. “Thanks for that, by the way.”

Brian snorted. “Like I had anything to do with that.”

He couldn’t mean that. Justin searched Brian’s eyes. “Like, you had everything to do with that?”

“I didn’t—”

“Shut up and just say, _you’re welcome_.”

Brian chuckled, then leaned forward a bit, their bodies already touching. “You’re welcome.”

Justin pushed up and tasted the coffee on Brian’s lips. Brian responded and Justin slid his hands underneath the black suit jacket and around to Brian’s back. He loved the slightly static sound his fingers made sliding along the fabric. He couldn’t contain the tiny moan when he felt Brian’s fingers move under the stretched-out collar of his shirt, fingertips sliding just beneath the cotton.

With a groan, a bite to Justin’s lower lip and a final push of his hips into Justin’s, Brian ended the kiss. “I gotta get back to work.”

“Yeah, you better.” One last peck and Justin let go of Brian and sat back down in his chair.

He wanted to ask Brian about his weekend plans, but he’d learned his lesson on that count. Things were different from how Brian had portrayed them in his snit back then, he knew that, but still he wasn’t going to push it. Even after their night on the car hood.

Brian seemed deep in thought for a moment and Justin wondered what that was about.

“You know, I think I still owe you a movie.”

“Oh?” Justin tried not to sound too surprised. It was true, though. They’d never made it to the movies that time.

“They have this open-air movie thing at Riverview Park starting in a couple of days. They’re showing old classics. I usually go every year when I have the time.”

Was that an invitation? “That sounds great,” Justin said carefully.

“Yeah?”

Justin smiled at the way Brian bit his lip. “Yeah.”

“Okay. I’ll call you tomorrow.” Brian turned to leave.

“Thanks for dropping by to check the boards again!” He heard Brian’s chuckle right before the door clicked shut.

Justin couldn’t lose the smile for the next fifteen minutes, not even when Jerry came back, asked after _the wooing powers of Mr. Kinnetik_ – _“Jerry, for the hundredth time, don’t fucking call him that!”_ – and bitched about price hikes in the fast food industry.

 

+

 

He hadn’t meant to keep up with the tradition, and he probably wouldn’t for long, but here he was. It was Wednesday and he brought red daisies. He wasn’t sure, of course she’d never said anything, but Justin liked to think that the red ones were her favorites.

The announcements had asked specifically for no floral arrangements. Mom had never liked those big overproduced wreaths and Justin was not going to send her down there buried beneath them. He put the single daisies down by the headstone and wondered if this was really all that was left of her to the common stranger: a name carved in marble.

“I figured you would come back.”

Justin turned around. “Yeah, well.” He tried to keep the emotion out of his voice.

“I wanted to talk to you after the funeral, but you were gone so quickly.”

“I’ve watched her decay long enough,” Justin bit out. “Besides, I’m sure dad wouldn’t have approved of us talking.”

She sighed and Justin found that a girl her age shouldn’t know how to sigh like that. Like years of disappointment and hard living. “I’ve been caring less and less about what dad does or doesn’t approve of.”

Justin couldn’t help but snort. He probably shouldn’t know how to snort like that either.

Molly sat down on the grass. “I’m… God, I’m so sorry, Justin. I don’t even know where to start.” Justin watched as she shook her head and covered her face. “I shouldn’t have let you alone in all this. I should’ve helped. I shouldn’t have let dad separate us like that.”

Justin closed his eyes. “You were young.” Hell, she still was.

“That’s no excuse. I know I was selfish. I just wanted to… I wanted to have at least one parent I can count on, you know? One parent that doesn’t call me a fraud, accuses me of plotting against them every other day while randomly locking themselves in the attic. And if I had turned to you, well,…”

“I know.”

“But I’ve come to realize how stupid it is to live in false security like that, financial or otherwise. I mean, how great a parent can he really be seeing how he treated you? And for no apparent reason at that.”

Justin shook his head. “There _was_ … a _reason_ , so to say.”

“Really?”

He wanted to say it out loud. In that moment, he wanted his sister, whom he practically hadn’t talked to in three years, to be the first to hear it from his own mouth. It didn’t come half as hard as expected. “I’m gay.”

Molly blinked at him, eyes wide. “And… dad knew?”

“Dad knew a long time before I knew.” He just never told. Just acted.

Another stream of tears smudged Molly’s eye make-up. “Justin, I’m so—”

“Don’t. It’s… Just leave it.”

Her lips wobbled dramatically and Justin realized that he might’ve sounded more final than intended. She was still his little sister, after all, and pretty much the only relative he had left. He tried to swallow the lingering reservation and cleared his throat. “So, what are you up to these days?”

Molly sniffed a relieved laugh, but they both remained silent for a while. Justin watched her, silent and alone with her thoughts, and had trouble believing that they both were those loud, talkative, joyful kids once.

“I’ll be going away to college soon,” she said, finally.

“Yeah, I figured. Out of state?”

“I got accepted up at Syracuse. Dad is expectedly disappointed, apparently he has some connections and could’ve gotten me into Carnegie Mellon — you know, at least Mellon if not Dartmouth — but whatever. I think I need to get away, even if just one state up.”

“Sounds good.”

“Yeah.” Molly smiled, faintly, and Justin tried to return it.

He watched as she plucked some grass and twisted the blades between her fingers. A light breeze drifted through the graveyard, sending a couple of loose leaves spiraling up and down.

After a while, Molly asked, “Justin?”

“Yes?”

“Are you… _happy_? You know, with your life?”

Justin thought about that. He thought about work, about Jerry and Daphne and nights spent hanging out on Jerry’s patio. He thought about freedom, about opening cans of paint again after six years, and finally, about waking up to Brian’s lips on his neck.

Turning back to Molly, he nodded. “I’m learning to be.”

 

+

 

Brian should’ve fucking known that the cheap bastards wouldn’t put up remotely enough chairs. At least if he was going to get eaten up by mosquitoes, he’d wanted to sit in a chair.

Justin laughed at his complaints and patted the spot next to him.

Reluctantly, Brian sat down, eyeing the _borrowed_ blanket with disgust. He watched Justin arrange the popcorn and beers in front of them, kick off his shoes and get comfortable. Maybe sitting on this ratty blanket wasn’t _the_ worst thing.

“Was this my idea?” he asked.

Justin grinned. “It was.” He put his hand on Brian’s thigh and squeezed. “Thanks.”

“Always glad to share disgusting blankets and mosquito-spread diseases.”

“Shut up, it’s great here. I’ve been wanting to check this out every year but never did. I’m glad you brought me.”

Brian nodded and cleared his throat. “So, does this mean you’ll facebook me?” he asked, stretching out and checking the screen for any signs of James Stewart. He wondered if he’d really just said that.

Justin’s grin told him that he had. “Oh, I’ll facebook you.” He popped some popcorn in his mouth and raised an eyebrow at Brian. “Who knows, I might even change my relationship status.”

Brian almost chocked on a piece of popcorn while Justin chuckled.

“Just, you know, don’t get any ideas or fall in love with me or something, alright? That could make things complicated.” Justin wiggled his eyebrows.

Brian wanted to shoot something back, wanted to snark or verbally slap him, but for some goddamn reason, nothing came. He just sat there like an idiot, blinking, with his hand stuck in the popcorn.

Justin’s grin got even wider and he bent over to press two kisses into Brian’s neck. “Don’t worry so much,” he said before going back to checking out the crowd.

Brian drew his hand from the damned popcorn bucket and chewed slowly.

If there was anyone who had a right to tell him not to worry, it was probably Justin. Brian figured he might as well listen.

He let his palm drift over the blanket and hooked two fingers under Justin’s. When he looked up again, the lights were dimmed down and the opening credits began.

 

++ The End ++


End file.
